


Moonrose

by Ceara_Einin



Series: The Moon World [1]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Caspian likes exploring things, Developing Friendships, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, In Which Caspian is Tackled, Romantic Friendship, but he's kinda into it, feelings but first save the world, mostly in canon, rumors happen in narnia, will they won't they, world beyond narnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 85,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22350373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceara_Einin/pseuds/Ceara_Einin
Summary: Rosamar arrived in the city on the day Caspian was crowned. She doesn't know him, doesn't want to know him. But she's unwittingly made an enemy in her new home, and soon Caspian himself is caught with her in an intricate web of secrecy and lies. She just wants to protect her faeries, but can she trust the king? Can he trust her?
Relationships: Caspian (Narnia) & Original Female Character(s), Caspian (Narnia)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Moon World [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608862
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue

"Rosamar, may I have a moment?"

A young girl no older than ten quickly slips away from her usual place in the corner of the room she shares with her younger sister and rushes to the door.

"Yes, Aunt?"

The older woman's eyes light up at the sound of the girl's high-pitched voice. It annoys most of Rose's immediate family, but Aunt has always found it endearing.

"Come child, take a seat," she says as she steps inside and closes the door behind her.

"My sister-"

"-Won't be bothering us for a few hours. It's only you and I in the house for now, Rose."

Immediately, the girl's slim shoulders relax. She's always been sure of her family's contempt, even though a small part of her feels silly for thinking they exist only to make her miserable. Even though her aunt chides her for the petty thoughts, they stay with a will of their own. In Rosamar's eyes, her aunt is one of the few decent apples of the bunch, the only one who was consistently and truly kind to her. Father often accuses her of seeking out Aunt's favor, but Rose has always been far too shy to consciously consider that. No, Aunt finds the girl's quiet and perhaps submissive demeanor refreshing. At least, that's what she's told her time and again.

"What's going on, Aunt?" Rosamar asks when Aunt starts fiddling with something hidden in her sleeve. Aunt never fiddles or fidgets.

"Rose, child, it's time you knew something about me, and your own future."

"My future?"

The girl scrunches her eyebrows together and tilts her head to one side. As far as she'd ever been told, the future was for taking care of a house and marrying some well-connected man and having kids of her own – sons, to keep the man happy.

"As I'm sure you know, the rest of this family is not quite...well, I could never trust any of them with this, save you. You must promise me to keep it a secret from them, do you understand?"  
Rose's young, slightly-too-bushy eyebrows pinch together, but she nods.

"Very good. I am about to tell you a very big secret, Rose. But first, I need you to understand exactly how important it is. Listen carefully, child. You will need every word I say."

Slight trepidation runs warm through Rose's veins, but she inclines her head. If Aunt sees fit to trust her with something, who is she to object?

At the child's acceptance, Aunt reaches out and brushes the back of her hand against the young, soft cheek, her fond smile shining in her eyes.

"Bless you, child." Aunt starts to continue, but her mouth suddenly closes, and opens, and closes again. She lets out a short laugh and taps her forearm with two fingers, as she often does when frustrated with herself.

"Forgive me Rose, words suddenly failed me. I've never had to tell anyone of this before."

"Take all the time you need, aunt."

Her hand pats the side of Rose's head, and she closes her eyes to gather herself, or so the girl assumes.

"Rose, you are young yet, but you surely know how odd and, indeed, very cruel the world can be."

"Do you mean the old stories about the Narnians, aunt?"

"No, child. Your family is not too kind, is it?"

"No!" Rose surprises herself with the shout. She's never shouted before. But then, no one's asked her before.

"What if there could be a place where there was no unkindness such as this? Where people spent their days learning and growing and simply enjoying each other's company, without yelling or fighting? If disagreements were rare and civil and not as they are here in Beruna?"

"Aunt, what do you mean by 'civil'?" Rose hadn't learned that word in school yet.

"Civil? Civil disagreement means there is respect in the disagreeing. Two sides may think different things, but they both listen to each other and are willing to learn and come to an agreement with elements of what they each wanted. Does that explain it for you?"

"How could something like that work?" the child muses. In Beruna, she's only ever seen disagreeing sides tear each other to shreds, either with words or fists.

"But it would be wonderful to find a place where it did, no?"

Rosamar nods. That does sound nice.

"Bloody noses aren't pretty."

Aunt throws her head back and laughs at that, drawing one of Rose's rare smiles to her lips.

"No, indeed," she chuckles. "Now, where was I?"

"A place with respect and kindness?"

"Ah yes! And if this place was filled with magic and dance and every good and beautiful there is?"

"Why, that can't exist, aunt. Nothing so perfect can. It'd be destroyed." Rose may not know much of the world beyond Beruna, but she does know that nothing beautiful can last too long. People are too greedy to allow it.

"Rose, child, there is such a place. It is called Tanssi Kuun, and it is another world entirely, in the most literal sense."

"Another world?" A sudden jolt of hope shoots a hole in the child's confusion. "May we go there, aunt?"

"I have been there many times, Rose. I protect it."

Young eyes gaze up at Aunt with an awed sort of respect. "Is that why you sometimes swing kitchen knives around when Mother isn't looking?"

Aunt laughs briefly, and pats the black-haired head. "Yes. Do you know why I protect it, Rose?"

The girl thinks on that for a few moments, but the answer comes easily. "Because it's perfect, and everyone here would ruin it."

"Not everyone in this world would ruin it, but there are many who would. The beings of Tanssi Kuun, the faeries," Aunt pauses, tapping her fingers on her forearm again. "They have no skills with a blade or with protecting themselves. Thus, there must be someone who looks after their well-being and that of their world."

"And that's you, aunt."

"Yes. And someday, if you accept the role, it will be you."

The child's eyes widen visibly. "Aunt, I could never-"

"You do not wish to?" A slight color of fear tinges her voice and jolts Rosamar from her reverie.

"I would be honored, aunt, but I don't have any skills with blades or protecting, or with words either. I can't negotiate for them or fight for them."

"Rose, I will teach you, you needn't worry. But you must understand that it won't be easy."

"I'm young, Aunt, but I know that," answers the young girl serenely, as if it's the most obvious thing she's ever heard in the entire world.

Aunt chuckles once more before pulling two disk-like things from her sleeve, the things she's been fidgeting with this whole time.

"I'm getting old, Rose, and soon I won't be able to protect Tanssi Kuun as it needs to be protected. Will you accept the role in my place?"

Rose don't even have to think. Her head bobs up and down in the most enthusiastic nod she thinks she's ever given.

"Teach me everything you know."

"There is more I need to tell you before I give you these pendants."

Immediately, the excited young girl settles down and fixes her eager gaze on the older woman once more.

"Ever the attentive listener," she says fondly.

Small and rounded shoulders hitch up slightly in embarrassment, but Rose waits semi-patiently for her to continue.

"To get to Tanssi Kuun, you must find the tree with the engraving to match this," here she holds up the pendants, "and speak the word 'Kuu.' In their language, it means 'moon.' A fitting phrase, and you'll see why when you go there yourself."

"When can I go there, aunt?"

"I was getting to that. Every time this pendant changes ownership, and this is the original of the two," she holds up the older-looking one, "the new owner must find his or her own tree. When I give this to you, the tree I use to enter Tanssi Kuun will no longer be the door, and you'll have to find the tree that is yours. You understand, thus far?"

Hesitantly, the girl nods, even as she thinks to herself that there are a great many trees in Narnia, even in only Beruna, and isn't that a little excessive, to scour every tree in the world?

"Good. You must keep this with you at all times, do you understand? If anyone were to find it without you giving them ownership, they could find your tree and enter Tanssi Kuun."

"Would it be so bad if they were a friend?"

"Even friends can't be fully trusted, Rose. A best friend one day may be an enemy the next. You must be very, very careful to whom you entrust this secret."

"Did you tell anyone about Tanssi Kuun, aunt? Other than me?"

"No. You are the first."

The girl's curiosity continues to run away with her, and she can't help but blurt out, "Who gave it to you? The original pendant?"

"My grandmother gave it to me, when she was on her deathbed."

"Why are you telling me about this now?"

"I've told you, Rose, I'm getting older. I don't want to take the chance on something happening."

Rose accepts this quietly and continues her eager interrogation. "Why are there two pendants?"

"A good question. The second is a spare, and if it changes hands the entry tree will not change. The spare is yours to do with as you will. Some owners find someone they trust with their lives and more, and they give that person the spare, in case something should happen to them. I never found one I could trust that much."

"Will I?" Rose wonders aloud. It seems a strange thought, and a dangerous one at that. She certainly don't have someone she trust like that now.

"You may, you may not. Giving away the spare isn't the norm, but it is by no means unheard of."

"What happens if someone else gets hold of the spare?"

"You pray to the moon and you fight to get it back."

The suddenly grave answer sobers the girl's exuberance a good bit. Caution enters her enthusiasm, and by the slight smile on Aunt's face, she approves.

"Yes, Aunt."

The woman regards her niece for a moment, her eyes softening at the innocence shining in the young face. Yes, she has chosen a worthy successor. Rose, however, isn't so inclined to keep silence.

"What's it like there? What kinds of dances do they dance? Do they play music? Do they sing? Do they-"

"Ah, now that I cannot tell you," Aunt answers, tweaking the young nose fondly. "It's tradition for the protector to tell the protector-to-be only the minimal information."

"Why?"

"We often value things much more if we discover them for ourselves."

There's a wisdom to the older woman's words that quiets Rose's abundant questions.

"Thank you for trusting me with this, aunt."

"You're welcome, Rose. Promise me, you will always be painstakingly cautious?"

"Always," the girl answers sincerely, head bowing slightly of its own will.

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Aunt straightens and turns to face her soon-to-be successor straight on, the pendants resting in her palms. "Rosamar, do you swear on the Nine Great Lights that you will protect Tanssi Kuun to the best of your ability, and even beyond?"

"I swear it."

With that, Aunt presses the pendants into the girl's open hands, and instantly they warm almost to burning. For a few frightening moments, Rose begins to fear they'll catch fire as they brighten from dull copper to the deep red of coal embers.

"Kuu," Aunt says, looking at her niece expectantly.

"Kuu," repeats the stunned girl.

A flash of deep red later, the pendants return to their normal color.

"Your training starts tomorrow," Aunt states.

"I'll make you proud, I promise," the new successor whispers.

"Yes, Rose, I believe you will."


	2. A New Home

**(Rosamar POV)**

My tired feet at last reach the bridge, but I forget about them altogether when I look up at the massive stone walls and towers stretching into the sky. I'd heard that the Telmarine castle was a giant among castles, but even that description seems insignificant. I feel no bigger than a baby ant as I stride across the bridge toward the city that surrounds it, towards my new home.

A few times, I stumble over an uneven cobblestone, but I blame it more on my distraction than my road-wearied feet. How was it possible to build something so massive? I hope none of the workers were afraid of heights.

Excited chatter sounds all around me, and I have to dodge a horde of scampering children waving brightly colored strips of cloth.

"Lozette, do be careful! Stay where I can see you!" shouts a concerned parent from somewhere off to my left.

My eyes follow the children until I can't look away from the castle and the city any longer. I could stand and stare for a lifetime, but I need to get to my new workplace so I can move into my new home. I've heard it's quite spartan, but I'd much rather live in a mouse-hole here than in a mansion back at Beruna. And as I had no luck finding my entry tree there, I can only hope I'll find it around here. Aunt did warn me it might take years to find...I can only hope Tanssi Kuun will take care of itself while I try to find my way in.

At the thought of my aunt, a lump rises in my throat, but I quickly push it back down. Today my new life starts, and I refuse to start it by crying, especially in public.

I quickly turn my thoughts toward something else, which happens to be another round of rowdy young ones. But wait, this bunch is different: not so happy and cordial as the previous.

A frown spreads over my face as I see a young boy, clearly a good three years younger than his peers, shoved to the back of the bunch and abandoned there. I bite my tongue to keep from snapping a reprimand at the children who laugh when he stumbles over a cobblestone and goes sprawling on his chubby little tummy. Quicker than I can think, my feet take me to his side.

"Those stones can be really mean, can't they?" I ask, smiling at the boy as I extend my hand to him.

He stares at the offer of help with a trembling lip and disbelieving eyes before grabbing the very tips of my fingers. I smile wider as I gently pull him back to his feet.

"T'ank you," he mumbles, shoulders hunched toward his ears and eyes studying the stones under his shoes.

I study him for a moment, my forehead creasing when his sheepishness doesn't let up. "You know when I was a little girl, I once fell into a great big puddle of mud?"

His light brown eyes flit up to study me, suspicious of my attempted anecdote. "You did?"

"I tore a hole in my dress, and look at you! I can't even tell you took a tumble."

The corners of his mouth start to tip upward, and I can't help but smile wider in response.

"What's your name?" I ask him as I guide us both out of the way of a rickety wagon rattling with pots and pans.

"Nico," he answers, quiet as a mouse.

"Well, Nico, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Rosamar," I reply, shaking his hand slowly.

"Ros-a-mor?" he attempts.

"Rose, if that's easier to say. Rosamar can be a bit of a mouthful, can't it?"

Nico doesn't answer outright, but I'm rewarded with a real smile.

"Nico, come along now!" calls a tall, bearded man a few paces ahead.

While Nico turns to nod his obedience, I slip my hand into my bag. When he turns back to face me, presumably to say goodbye, I hand him the pear. "I always like one of these on mornings like this," I say as I press the fruit into his stubby hands.

"T'ank you!" His entire face spreads into a gap-toothed smile then, and my own widens to span from ear-to-ear.

I give his hand one last squeeze and ruffle his hair as he waves goodbye and toddles off, the pear in his mouth before he's taken two full steps. Well, that's a positive start to my new life.

After many minutes of slipping along through the crowd and gaping at the ever-closer castle ahead of me, I finally make it across the bridge and into the city. Is it always so crowded? Surely it can't be; it would be madness!

I squeeze through a particularly tight throng of giggling girls a few years my juniors. They all seem to be chattering about something, but I don't have the interest to listen and figure it out. My ears pick up "handsome" and "dashing", and that's all I needed to hear. I'm not one to fawn over an supposedly attractive member of the opposite sex. I don't begrudge them for it, but it holds little interest for me. A handsome man will not help me secure the world waiting for me any faster.

I'm about to cross the street, but I'm pushed back by the crowd suddenly surging tighter together, all craning their necks at something clip-clopping this way. Slight annoyance presses my lips into a thin line, and I have to fight it back. Better not to start a new life getting short with my possible next-door neighbors.

"Didn't I tell you he was handsome?!" squeals a girl with a particularly high-pitched voice and enough finery draped around her neck to satisfy half a dozen greedy pirates.

I refrain from rolling my eyes, but only because I'm too busy trying to fight my way through the crowd down the street. It's not quite charitable of me, and I should really be more considerate. But I've already had more of the crowds than I can take.

Suddenly, the girls stop squealing, and a few collective gasps rise up amid the cheering. That does manage to arouse my curiosity, so I turn my gaze from my destination a few blocks down to the street. When I see the massive lion padding along next to a young man on a horse, I gasp too. I've seen that lion before.

"Aslan?" I whisper reverently. Yes, that can't be anyone other than the Great Lion Aslan. I thought he was regal the first time I saw him, but I can fully appreciate his majesty now that I can see his face, rather than only his back.

The cheering continues as I remain entranced by the sight of Aslan, walking the same street I'll be walking for the forseeable future. Then I remember. Today is Prince Caspian's coronation. Well, King Caspian now. The young man beside Aslan must be the new king; the Telmarine crown is perched on his dark-haired head. He must've been the one the girls were screeching about as well. A few of them resume their antics, maybe in the hopes he'll notice them. From here, I have to say they may have had a point. As far as Telmarine men go, he's quite fair of face. I almost smile in amusement, but I forget to when the new king's eyes suddenly connect with my own.

I swallow the lump of fear in my throat when a slight twinge of recognition flickers in the pit of my stomach. No, I don't know him. I've seen him before, yes, but he doesn't know me. Luckily, his gaze moves on before I can puzzle over it any further.

I watch the rest of the procession go on by, smirking slightly to myself when the girls shift their praises to focus on a blonde-haired young man riding behind King Caspian. I suppose he must be one of the Kings of Old. Rumor has it the four Kings and Queens from Narnia's Golden Age over a thousand years ago returned and helped Prince Caspian win back the throne from his uncle Miraz.

Eventually, the procession of Kings and Queens and Narnians passes on, and the crowds loosen up enough to let me continue squeezing past them. It's time I found my new home.

To my delight, it turns out to be very easy to find, right along the street. I can even see the spinning wheels from the window. I take a deep breath, remind myself that I can do this, and walk through the open door.

"Ah, you must be Rosamar! Welcome, child! My my, you are a young thing, aren't you? Not yet twenty, I wager!" I blink rapidly at the flurry of a greeting as I'm suddenly engulfed in a crushing hug.

"Er…no, madam. I'm only just nineteen," I mumble into her shoulder.

"Well you are young! A bit plain though. A very good thing you didn't look for work in a brothel, child."

My eyebrows jump a few inches up my forehead. "Well…um…I…thank you?" I finally offer as a reply.

"Yes child, it was a compliment, of sorts. Now, gather your things and come with me. Best get you moved in, and you start as soon as you set your things down in your new home!"

"Y-yes madam," I splutter amid my efforts to take in the snug little shop I'm standing in. I heard this woman was a character, but now I think I understand that she's much more than I bargained for.

"Stop your stuttering child, I can't stand it!" she suddenly barks, releasing me from her crushing hold and grabbing my wrist as she bustles off out the back door.

"Sorry, madam."

"You may call me Sima, child," she answers, a bit kinder now that my voice is steady.

"Alright, Sima."

"Now, have you carded before?"

"I'm afraid I haven't. My family owned a tavern."

"Owned, eh? Not now?"

I clench my jaw hard enough to feel the pop deep in its socket. "It…burned down. Not long ago."

"Ah, and you wanted a new life?"

"I have for some time," I answer simply. I just met this woman; I've no desire to tell her of my history.

"Very well, child, keep your secrets. I've no use for them."

An audible sigh of relief escapes me at her dismissal of my vague answer.

We arrive at a row of three small little houses with faded stone walls, a thatched roof, and a pretty wooden door that creaks as Sima sweeps me inside the one on the far right.

"Here we are, your home sweet home. Put your things down, and I expect you back within the quarter hour, you hear?"

"Yes, Sima."

She's gone before I even finish the last syllable of her name, and I take one of my fifteen minutes to process this flurry of a woman. Well, I'll never be bored, that's a certainty. I'm not entirely sure how to feel about her, but I think she's a good woman. Eccentric and opinionated with most likely high expectations, but infinitely better than my parents.

The only concern is finding time to slip away to the woods and search for my entry tree - the one I've spent the past year looking for without any luck. But then again, that's what nighttime is for. I work best at night anyhow. The darkness doesn't unnerve me like it does most people; I welcome it. I can be what I like, with the darkness to cloak me.

I shake my head to quiet my thoughts and quickly lay my few bags in my living space. It's small, but it is cozy. The packed floor is clean and the walls are free of cobwebs, and there's even a quaint-looking fireplace. Heaven only knows where I'll get wood for it, since I always feel guilty about taking wood from trees, but it's a nice to have nonetheless.

I run my fingers over the sandpapered table, careful to avoid the splintering patch on the corner. I don't imagine I'll card very well with a sliver of wood embedded in my finger. For now, that might be all the exploring I have time for, though there isn't much else to see. I'd like to impress Sima on my first day, if I can, and being back early might help with that. This new life looks like it could be quite a happy one, and I'm more than ready to start it.

It seems Sima's more than ready as well; the very instant my foot steps back inside the threshold of the workshop, she bustles over and thrusts a full basket of wool as wide as one and a half me's into my arms and throws two paddles that look very much like square brushes on top.

"Good, you're early! I show you how to card, and you finish this by the end of today. Agreed?"

I nod, but I don't know if she can see my head peeking out from behind the basket, so I call out a respectful "Yes, Sima" and shuffle over to the stool she's standing by, setting the basket down as gently as I can. As it is, a small puff of dust balloons up from the packed dirt floor.

"Sit, child."

"Rose."

"Beg pardon?"

My neck heats with the embarrassment of old memories and sorrow pricking under my collarbone, but my hair and the pile of tangled wool towering in front of me hides my discomfort well enough. "Call me Rose, please."

Aunt used to call me 'child.'

Sima raises an eyebrow at me, but she shrugs.

"Sit, Rose."

I sit, and place the basket next to me on the floor. Sima grabs another basket from somewhere behind me and sits it next to me on my other side, her skirts puffing out from the force of it.

"Watch, and learn quickly. We work fast here," she instructs, the carding paddles already in her hands before she even finishes the first sentence. Fast indeed.

I just nod and focus on her hands as they expertly grab a handful of the raw wool and begin carding. Well, it looks very like brushing it between two brushes, actually. It looks easy enough, if somewhat tedious.

"Very simple, you see?" Sima finishes the wool and tosses it into the empty basket. "After you card it once, put it here. You will card it a second and third time later, but you need a finer paddle for that. You understand, no?"

"I do," I answer confidently. It looks easy indeed, and perhaps she'll let me sing while I do it.

"Good. Get started then, Rose, we only have half the day left!" Sima bustles back to another corner of the workshop and sits down at a spinning wheel, one of the several that I saw from the window. I only waste a second staring in fascination before I pick up the paddles, grab a bit of wool, and begin.

Inside a minute, my arms are complaining piteously. How in all the worlds did she make it seem so easy? I start humming a traveling tune I picked up on the road out of desperation for a distraction.

"See child, it's not so difficult, yes"

I grunt out some sort of agreement, but Sima laughs at my grimace.

"You'll get used to it," a young woman I didn't notice before calls. I swivel on my stool to get a better look at the young woman perched at the spinning wheel just behind Sima's. She's built strong, with sturdy wrists and arms corded with the muscle I never guessed this profession would require. Her eyes sparkle with the youthful liveliness I saw in the squealing young women out on the streets, but her back is straight with pride and presence in way theirs were not.

"I hope so," I answer, praying my arms don't start shaking and give Sima something else to laugh about.

"I'm Lilia, by the way. And you are?" She stops spinning for a moment to extend her hand to me.

"Rosamar. Rose for short, if you like," I say as I lean over and take her hand. The shop is just small enough that I can reach her fingertips.

"Which do you prefer?"

For a moment, I can only blink in confusion. Only Aunt acknowledged such things as preference before. "I…don't know," I admit with just a little embarrassment. It seems the back of my neck is doomed to overheating for the afternoon.

"Let me know when you decide then." Lilia smiles warmly, and I can only stare back in confusion and slight surprise.

Well, now I know that's one thing I'll need to figure out. If she was interested enough to inquire, I'd best know the answer. Not that I expect anyone to repeat her kindness, but I appreciate that I ought to indulge it.

"How long have you been here?" I ask. I'd like a good conversation with kind Lilia.

"Two years. I've yet to find a better arrangement."

"And you won't either," Sima cuts in.

"Yes, I know," she laughs right back.

I try not to stare. Is this normal, to joke around with our boss?

Lilia seems to notice my confusion, and nods discreetly. Either Sima is a very unique employer, or things back at Beruna are drastically different from things here in the city. I don't know what to think, but I suppose I better get used to it. If I'm to make my living here, I'd better learn how to blend in.

"Don't you worry, Rose, you'll ease up soon." Sima directs this at me and I quickly glance up at her without thinking to hide my slack jaw and wide eyes.

"And look, a job well done," she adds.

I look down to see that my wool is carded, and not so well as Sima's sample but certainly well enough.

"Do you talk often, to pass the time?"

"Very often, yes. It helps distract from any aches," Lilia explains with a knowing smile at my arms.

"Ah, but you will walk away with enviable shoulder muscles," Sima laughs as I rub one of my shoulders.

"I thought men were the ones with shoulder muscles," I grumble.

"Only the ones who card," Lilia answers. Her straight face only puts a smile on mine.

I think I'll grow used to this sort of atmosphere, even if the air in here is heavy with the smell of raw wool.

I choose to smile instead of complaining about the smell. "If this keeps up, I suspect this will stop feeling like work."

"Quite right, child. Why else would we chatter so?"

"You chatter about anything when the mood strikes you," fires Lilia.

My eyebrows jump, but Sima just laughs. Another surprise in a day of many. I have a lot to learn.

"As long as we don't have to chatter endlessly about handsome men," I mutter, mostly to myself, but Lilia and Sima hear anyway. I have the decency to flush with shame; I shouldn't be picking them as targets of the mood my uncertainty has brought.

"Ah, you heard some of the younger of the adolescent girls fawning over King Caspian?" Sima seems to know exactly what I'm talking about.

I nod as my lips curl inward toward my teeth in annoyance even as I silently chide my attitude. And yet, more foolishness slips from my lips. "One might think they were talking about a flower to put in their hair or a ribbon for their dress."

"They can be a bit silly, yes. But don't forget, they'll grow out of it."

I turn to Lilia with my sheepishness on full display. "Of course. And anyway, I'm sure it's all in good fun."

They both chuckle, and I return my focus to my carding. I've still got a whole basket to finish. And finish it I do, just as the sun sets.

"Impeccable timing, Rose!"

I dip my head in thanks. Warmth blooms deep in my belly to hear Sima still honoring my wish. "Until tomorrow, Sima."

"With the sun, you hear?" she barks, though I suspect it's more playful than it sounds.

"I think all the city hears," Lilia answers for me.

"Off with you now, both of you!" comes the smirk-laden reply.

"Yes, Sima," we chorus. Already, I feel as though I've become part of their team.

Lilia links arms with me as we walk out, and stops for a moment before we part ways. "I'm glad we met. I think you'll be happy here," she says simply.

I smile as she waves goodbye and disappears into her small abode next to mine.

_I think you're right._


	3. The New Girl

**(Darin POV)**

He awoke dreading this day, the coronation parade, for no other reason than for the crowds he knew would choke the streets. Perhaps it was strange for a blacksmith to hate the deafening noise crowds brought when he works for hours with the loud clanging of metal shaping metal, but Darin never thought it strange at all. However, he stopped minding the occasion so much when he noticed the refreshingly quiet young woman in the crowd, quite obviously new to the city.

He'd been walking along the bridge, returning from a visit to his brother who'd just returned from the war, when he noticed her help the young boy who fell. Such a thing was rare to see from a young woman. A middle-aged woman, perhaps not. But one so young as her? Rare.

Perhaps that's why he keeps looking outside his smith, hoping to see her passing by outside. She carried several bags with her, so it's reasonable to guess she was moving into the city. Now, he wasn't sure why on earth anyone would do that, but that was all well and good. He'd get to know her, and perhaps be thankful she came to live here.

After the crowds from the coronation parade die down, Darin stops his work for a moment to stick his head outside and risk a quick glance to see if she might be anywhere around. He'd like the chance to introduce himself. Never mind that he isn't one to step up and introduce himself; kindness and gentleness were hard to come by these days, and he had every intention of getting to know the young woman who'd shown both those qualities inside the space of five minutes.

And not only that, she'd seemed as annoyed by the crowds as he was. It'd been a long while since he'd found a kindred spirit with regards to that.

_Back to work._ The girl will have to wait; he has a lot of work to finish before sundown, a fact the commotion of the parade did nothing to help. So he returns to his hammering, but when he pounds away at the red-hot metal, he finds he can't concentrating quite as well as usual. Stopping to wipe his forehead after finishing a horseshoe, Darin promises himself he'll meet that girl within the week. With a satisfied nod, he clears his head from its unusually cluttered thoughts and returns to smithing, his concentration no longer suffering quite so badly.

A week comes and goes, with only one sign of that girl, that kind young woman. She passes by his shop, apparently in a bit of a hurry, and he can't bring himself to dart outside to introduce himself. He has no idea how to do that without seeming a fool and consequently annoying her. First impressions are important, and the last thing he wants is to botch his. No need to make things harder for himself; she seems to be a private sort of person anyhow, and getting to know her may prove a challenge.

Another week passes, and still Darin can't find the right time to say hello. She's always bustling by, but after the third time she hustles past his shop door, he notices how gracefully she manages to hurry along, arms soft and steps nearly silent. He watches for her a bit more diligently after that.

Another week, and then another, and still no good time arises. Darin grows impatient with himself, but his good sense overrides his annoyance. _First impressions are very important,_ he reminds himself. He has to make a good one. And more importantly, he wants to.

A little after a month, Darin comes across the girl for the first time outside the shop. A smaller girl no older than twelve tries to sing a popular ditty, though sadly more than a few notes off pitch. Darin starts to chuckle to himself and moves to continue on home, now that the sun's set, but nearly silent footsteps keep him from hurrying along quite so quickly.

"Do you like to sing?"

Ah, so that's what her voice sounds like. It's a bit lower in pitch than he'd thought it might be, but Darin finds that he doesn't mind that at all. Her voice is pleasing to his ears nonetheless.

"Very much!" the twelve-year-old girl chirps, face alight with a child's enthusiasm.

"May I sing with you?" the young woman asks as she kneels next to the short girl.

"Oh would you? I can't seem to get the tune right, even though my momma tried to teach me. My big brother says I'm a lost cause, but I want to prove him wrong!"

From his place across the street, Darin sees a line form on the young woman's forehead as her eyebrows press together. A sore subject, the topic of big brothers? He'll be sure to avoid it.

"You're very right to do so. What's your name?"

"Nina. And who are you?"

"Rose."

"Like the flower?"

The young woman, Rose, laughs a little and nods sheepishly. Why sheepishly?

"I suppose so, yes. Though I believe my mother wasn't thinking of flowers when I was born."

"What was she thinking of then?" Nina questions, her curly-haired head tipping sideways.

Rose stiffens; he can see her spine go rigid. Another sore spot? Perhaps better to avoid the topic of her family altogether, when he finally gets up the nerve to talk to her.

"Can you sing once for me, Nina, so I can learn the tune?"

Yes, definitely better to avoid talking of her family.

But Nina doesn't seem to notice the quick shift, and begins singing the ditty again, though with a happier face than before. It comes out a bit better as well, perhaps because she isn't trying so hard this time; she is simply enjoying it.

Once the girl finishes, Rose smiles warmly. "That was beautiful."

"It wasn't off-tune?"

"Only a few notes, and we can fix that easily. You're really quite close."

Darin's smile threatens to break its way onto his face when Rose sings the ditty, in a quiet voice as clear as a cloudless sky. Her voice lacks volume perhaps, but it is so very like her: pure and simple and beautiful.

"You sing so pretty!" Nina exclaims as soon as Rose finishes. He couldn't agree more.

Rose's shoulders jump up an inch and her head sinks into her neck. "Let's sing it together, shall we? I think it'd sound better with you singing with me."

Nina practically fluffs up with pride and slips easily into the first verse, surprisingly on key. Rose joins her for the second line, correcting a slight slip. Nina's voice seems to almost overpower Rose's, but perhaps Rose is purposely singing quietly. The ditty swells in its final notes, and Darin suddenly realizes he's been standing there on the side of the street staring the entire time. What a miracle she hasn't noticed! Embarrassed at himself, Darin tries to shuffle along, but his eyes can't leave the scene of Nina and Rose.

"Once more, Rose? I think I still can't quite get that second line."

Rose smiles and quietly starts the ditty again, as Darin tries to mentally smack some sense into himself. He can't stand there and stare; it's not his place! And yet when the two start singing again and Rose's kindness shines once more, he can't help but stay to watch and listen.

This time, Nina finishes every last note on pitch, and both girl and young woman are beaming with pride when the ditty finishes a second time.

"Perfect," Rose praises.

Once again, Nina fluffs up, eyes sparkling almost as brightly as Rose's. "Thank you, Rose!"

"No, thank you! I was wishing for someone to sing with only just this morning," says Rose.

Where was this young woman from, to have learned to be so…Darin runs out of words. Suddenly he really wishes he'd paid a bit more attention back in the one year of schooling he had. A few synonyms would be quite appreciated right now.

The two exchange a few more words, and then Rose stands and goes on her way, rushing slightly as usual. Just as Darin returns to himself and shifts to continue on his own way, he notices the subtle movement of her arms. After a moment of paying attention, he realizes she's dancing. At least, her arms are. Does she love to dance too?

Then and there, Darin promises himself he'll be sure he's introduced himself before the faire in a month's time. He'll have to be sure and dance with her. Something tells him she can dance as well as she can sing. His own dancing is out of practice, but he can review. The crowds there will be worth a dance with Rose. He can hardly wait.

* * *

Less than a week later, Darin hears the first whispers about her. They manage to confuse him and anger him at once.

The first was innocent enough, just a young woman he didn't know whispering to one of her peers about the new girl in the city who kept to herself, and wasn't that odd? The second came a few days later, and was considerably less friendly. Two older matrons whispered with their husbands about the strange young woman who was always slipping away out of the city, and wasn't that suspicious? The third came from a group of girls about Rose's age about how she was always sneaking off in the dead of the night, and wasn't that frightening? What could she be up to, out there beyond the city walls? One suggested a beau, and Darin almost cursed aloud. His selfish side dearly hoped not. Another suggested she was meeting someone less than savory, and another suggested she was selling her body. Both made his blood run too hot and angry in his veins. Rose would never. They were only envious of her goodness…weren't they?

A week goes by, and the whispers get worse. The topic of her sneaking off is a constant theme, and Darin has to try very hard indeed to keep from snapping at the gossip-hens gobbling about a young woman they barely know. He takes on a tendency to subtly criticize the gossips as it is, but he doesn't want to be unkind to them. Rose wouldn't like that, and he does want to impress her. Even if he still has yet to formally meet her.

Still, he starts looking a bit more closely when she sweeps past his shop when the sun is setting, or even when it is long set and waiting to rise again in a few hours' time. He hates his slight suspicion, when he's almost certain every whisper is exaggerated and mean-spirited. But he still has yet to meet her, and he's been deceived enough in his lifetime that he can't completely ignore the rumors. Caution is a hard lesson, one he's learned plenty of. Until he meets her, he can't distrust her, but he can't completely put all his faith in her either. The possibility that the latter might be a horrible mistake is present enough that he pays attention to it.

As he starts to observe Rose a bit more, he begins to notice details about her that only made his dilemma more difficult. She walks ever-so-slightly on the balls of her feet, her heels just a few hairs from the ground for it to be noticeable if he really looks closely. Her elbows are always soft, never bent at sharp angles. Her hands, while not the most slender he's seen, always have soft angles as well. When her fingers curl, they curl into round arcs, never the sharp right angles of a fist. Her wrists follow suit, and often seem to pulse slightly, as if in a perpetual state of dance. Her posture is almost always impeccable, though her shoulders are a bit more rounded forward than the average person's. Perhaps that comes from a good deal of dancing, but as Darin is no dancer himself, he can't be sure.

And her face, well, he simply doesn't know what to make of it. It should look entirely readable and honest like the rest of her, but he can't deny that it always seems to be a mask. Her facial expressions are rare and always carefully guarded, the only exception being when she interacts with children. She seems to have a fondness for young ones, but only the ones in need of cheering. She seems to only initiate interactions with the solitary ones. He isn't entirely sure what to make of that either.

And yet, he wants to know her. If not for curiosity's sake, than simply to understand why she is so guarded. Reservation is another quality sometimes lacking in young women, at least the ones of the city. Darin is a little unsure as to why he's taken such an interest in the new young woman, but he isn't inclined to fight it, so he lets it stay.

But he really does need to introduce himself. If only she could stop hurrying so much; perhaps then he might be more confident about approaching her. He isn't sure what she'd do if he interrupted her while she's on her way to something important, which she almost always seems to be. He knows she is kind, but he has no way of knowing how secretly annoyed she'd be. He seriously doubts that she'd let him see her annoyance, but he's rather certain it'd be there. He himself gets very put out when someone interrupts him if he's in the middle of something, that's for sure. He doesn't know someone who isn't that way, to be exact.

And perhaps a smaller, quieter, less trusting side of him is insisting that maybe he doesn't want to get to know her after all. Where do the rumors come from, anyhow? Darin has to remind his subconscious time and again that rumors are just that: rumors. Not things to be believed, but things to be ignored at almost all costs.

How can someone who seems so caring possibly be involved in anything unscrupulous? But since he doesn't know her, a fact he can blame himself for, how can he judge for sure?

Perhaps if he could just get up the nerve to speak to her, she'd prove herself to be the exact opposite of what the whispering hens thought her to be. He wants very much to be sure, but he simply can't be. Blind trust is not his forte, and he has very little reason to wish it to be, after all.

He needs to meet her. He needs to simply find a way to introduce himself. 

One day, Darin decides to gather his nerve and just do it. How difficult could it be, after all? She is a gentle soul, and he can be almost entirely certain she'd never run off. Unless he makes a complete imbecile of himself, that is. Shaking his head to clear it, Darin just hurries to finish the smithing.

Finally, he's done with that piece, and he closes his workshop a bit early. She walks past often now, and in a few minutes she's likely to come walking along as usual.

As his luck would have it, today just has to be one of the few days she doesn't come along. He waits and idles on both sides of the street, but she never shows. Of course, the day he finally gets his courage, that would be the day she doesn't walk past here.

But he promised himself he'd say hello today, and he means to keep that promise, even if it was only to himself. Perhaps that's why his feet take him toward the spinning workshop. He'd heard somewhere that she worked as a wool carder, and luckily for him, he knew she could only work for Sima. 

He finds the place easily, and he's just walking past a window when he catches a glimpse of her and another young woman a bit older sitting down at a spinning wheel. Rose seems to be learning how to spin, and Darin can't help but smile at how she sits: the weight of her legs resting on the tips of her toes, knees bent subtly, back straight even in its slightly slouched position. Her eyes follow her teacher's movements, but her hands fiddle mindlessly with a small bundle of carded wool, the tips of her fingers tugging it apart only for her thumbs to bunch it together again. He knows now isn't the time to say hello, but he smiles the entire walk home. She keeps surprising him, somehow.

But a few days later when she appears at his shop door, he almost drops the red beginnings of a sword he's holding so tightly in the tongs.

"Hello?" she calls, voice and step both tentative.

Darin bites the inside of his cheek to keep his surprise in check and reminds himself to keep his face neutral as he sets the sword down in the fire to heat a bit more and turns to face her fully, hoping that she doesn't notice how cluttered his shop is, with horseshoes and hammers and swords and spearheads littering the worktables.

"Is there something I can help you with…?"

"Rosamar," she supplies. "And yes, I hope so. You have small knives, yes?" "Knives? Or daggers?" She looks confused for a moment, but she hides it well. "A dagger would be better, I suppose. And you are?"

"You'd like the name of a blacksmith?" He has no idea why he says that. Would she have asked if she didn't want to know?

"I asked for it, didn't I?"

He's grateful for the shadows that hide his reddening ears. "Darin."

"Pleasure to meet you," she says simply. If she's ill at ease, she doesn't let him see it.

"Pleasure's all mine. So it's a dagger you'd like then?"

"A lightweight one, please. I'm afraid my arms aren't very strong." He bites back the urge to joke that her shoulders must be from all her carding and dancing. "It should be finished in a few days' time. Shall I deliver it to you?"

"Oh no need, I can pick it up," she answers, a bit quickly. He nods once and wonders why on earth he can't come up with anything to say.

"Thank you." With those simple two words, Rose tips her head down in a goodbye and walks out into the street.

In the midst of his swirling thoughts, he wonders. _What on earth does she need a dagger for?_


	4. A Chance Encounter

**(Caspian POV)**

Aslan may have thought Caspian ready to be king, but at this particular moment, Caspian is feeling very much _un_ kingly and quite overwhelmed indeed. Cooperation seemed to be a commodity his attempts at diplomacy couldn't buy, and King Caspian X was almost at his wit's end. Even with the guidance of Trumpkin, Glenstorm, and a few trusted Telmarine advisors, he couldn't seem to make things work.

And today, Caspian X wants nothing more than to get away for a little while. He would very much like to ride off into the woods with Destrier and take a good few days off, but he knows that's simply out of the question. However, Glenstorm did manage to secure him a few hours, and he plans to take full advantage of them.

His state of mind isn't improved when thoughts of his uncle and father flood his overtaxed brain the very second he steps outside of his study.

Caspian briefly mulls over taking the liberty to tear down the hallway at the fastest sprint his body can manage, but after understanding how strange that would seem, he forces his steps to become measured and even. He keeps his head up, as he's grown accustomed to doing as king. Especially in council, he's found it to be very important that he give off a commanding aire – at least, as commanding as he can manage. Such a thing doesn't come very naturally to him in the midst of all his doubts.

What would his father think of his rule thus far? Would he be proud of his son for trying to unite the remaining Telmarines and the Narnians? Or disappointed in his son's nearly constant self-doubt?

Thanks to his uncle, he'll never know. Somehow, this bothers him even more than his struggling attempts at forging a sort of peace between the Narnians and Telmarines who had decided to stay in Narnia. One would think all or most of the disagreeable sorts would have left for the island Aslan offered, but a fair number of them remained. Caspian can only figure that the unknown of a world they couldn't see was more repugnant to them than living with his rule. Or perhaps they were sure he could be pawned about and bent to their whims. What on earth would his father have done with them?

He barely remembers Caspian IX, and maybe that's why he wonders so much what his father'd have thought of him.

And these thoughts were doing nothing to help him relax, which he was under strict orders to do from Glenstorm. For the next few hours, at least. So the troubled king breathes out his stormy thoughts and keeps his head clear for the rest of the walk to the stables.

Word must have traveled there about his few hours, as Destrier stands saddled and waiting when he walks into the stables. Caspian nods his thanks to the stable boy holding the reins, swings himself into the saddle, and takes off at a fast canter. If it weren't daytime, he could break into a gallop, but the city will be crowded, and he can't chance running over an unfortunate civilian. That just might put a bit of a further dent in his rule, young as it is.

So Caspian has no choice but to settle for a trot when he enters the city, and he tries not to let his impatience show on his face. He saves his smiles, and gives them away in gratitude when people dart out of his way, bowing as they do. It's still strange to be bowed to so much, but he's getting more accustomed to it. They bowed less when he was only a prince with an uncle they feared more.

That only turns his thoughts back to his uncle, his face darkening as he remembers Miraz's subtle confession to killing his father. Caspian's blood boils at that. Was the man so much a coward he had to kill his brother while he was asleep? To ensure he couldn't fight back?

Caspian's lips curl toward his teeth, and try as he might to let go of his hate, he simply can't, not with the memory of Miraz saying 'That was more or less true' when his aunt said she thought Caspian IX died in his sleep. He's so focused on his raging heart that he almost doesn't see the young woman in the street until too late.

Luckily Destrier dodges to the side to avoid her, and Caspian only just sees her dart to the side just in time. He's tempted to ride on as if it didn't happen, but she stumbles in her haste to get out of the way, and his conscience tugs at him. So he pulls Destrier to a halt and leaps off to apologize.

"I apologize my lady, I didn't see you in time," he rushes to say, only half paying attention to his words.

"Yes, so I gath- oh! Your Majesty! I'm sorry." Whatever she was going to say, she stops short when she looks up from brushing herself off and sees his face.

"No need," he answers shortly. He barely looks at her; not out of disrespect, but out of distraction.

"I won't keep you, in any case. A safe ride to you, Majesty."

Her voice, somehow firm in its deference, momentarily puts his distraction at bay. The flustered king stops for a moment and looks her in the eye for the first time.

Her face isn't overly pretty; it's quite plain, actually. There's nothing technically extraordinary about her, yet he looks for a moment longer than he perhaps should. For a second, he can't understand why. Then he realizes.

She has an honest face. A reserved face, a face with many secrets, but an honest one nonetheless. And she seems to understand him a bit more than he'd expect, just from looking at him. That sort of thing is new to him. And it keeps his eyes on hers for longer than they should be. Only when she colors slightly and looks to the side does he realize he was, in fact, staring.

"Thank you…?" He hopes she'll understand that he wants her name.

"Rosamar, Majesty."

He smiles at the unusual name and mounts Destrier again, still smiling.

"Caspian."

With that, he spurs on his loyal horse, his smile still spread on his face.

He finds her to be on his mind for a little longer than he thought she'd be as he rides over the bridge and toward the woods. Then he realizes: he's seen her eyes before.

As Destrier crashes through the trees, he thinks hard and tries to remember. He knows he's seen her before.

After a few long minutes of thinking and thinking and thinking some more, it hits him. She was there at the Battle of Beruna. He saw her eyes peeking out from behind a tree.

* * *

_**Battle of Beruna** _

The river god brings the crumbling bridge to his face and breaks it into splintered logs as he splashes back down into the river, disappearing with ease back into the water. For long moments, Caspian simply stares as the water foams and crashes and eventually evens back out to its original state, the river god's passage marked only by floating pieces of the destroyed bridge, discarded Telmarine war masks, and a bit more white foam capping the waves in the water.

Peter, Susan, and Edmund all start forward to ford the now calm river, and Caspian takes a large step forward to keep in step, his awe still very much slowing his senses. Professor never mentioned the river god in the Old Tales. The prince very much wishes he had, but perhaps the surprise of it is just as sweet as knowledge would have been.

The water swirls around his battle-wearied legs, slowing his movements even more. Luckily for Caspian, it slows the King and Queen as well; the Gentle Queen especially. Her long skirt drags to the side, but she tries to keep her struggle discreet. Still, he notices, and subtly offers his forearm for support. Susan takes a moment to decide, and he keeps his face neutral. But she does take his arm, just long enough to get through the strongest part of the current. Caspian keeps his smile to himself. No need to advertise his slight infatuation with the Gentle Queen too much, with the aftermath of the battle to sort out.

Finally, or perhaps a bit too quickly, the four reach the other side of the river. The Great Lion Aslan sits regally, regarding them each with a warm and loving smile. They drop to their knees in respect, heads bowed.

"Rise, Kings and Queens of Narnia," says the Lion.

Caspian keeps his eyes on the pebbles under his knees and stays put. He's only a prince, and a Telmarine prince at that.

"All of you," Aslan says, a bit gentler.

The prince's brow furrows slightly as his eyes rise to meet the Lion's, mouth parted in surprise.

"I do not think I am ready," he quietly replies, eyes returning to the ground.

"It's for that very reason," Aslan says, "I know you are."

Caspian's eyes leave the ground once more, surprise and gratitude written in their depths as they meet the Lion's. Upon seeing Aslan's smile, he rises, hesitant and humble. His eyes flit from the ground and up again, and then to the Kings and Queens on either side of him. All of them fix him with welcoming smiles, and Caspian smiles a bit at the very new feeling of acceptance.

However, when he looks straight ahead again, he notices something out of the ordinary. There, peeking out from behind a tree a little ways behind the Valiant Queen and the Lion, are two Telmarine-looking brown eyes. A soft breeze blows a bit of wavy black hair out from behind the tree trunk, and Caspian wonders absently if this girl is from Beruna. But if she's Telmarine…why is there no fear in her eyes? Why is there only awe and hopeful wonder?

But then the eyes notice his steady gaze, and they quickly disappear behind the tree. And Caspian's attention quickly snaps back to the present scene at the dismal sound of a funeral song.

Peter and Caspian both step to the side to let the band of mice carrying a dying Reepicheep through. Lucy rushes forward with her cordial and drops a single drop into the mouse's open mouth, face drawn with worry. The Valiant Queen never ceases to impress with her deep compassion for all.

But the worry lines on everyone's faces transform into smiles when Reepicheep draws in a deep breath and sits up, healed and alive.

"Oh! Thank you," gasps the mouse, "Your Majesty. Thank you."

But not completely healed; Lucy smiles at her siblings and Caspian, who return the smile when they see a very important part of the mouse is missing.

"Oh! Hail, Aslan! It is a great honor to be in-" Reepicheep abruptly stops his speech when he pitches forward and almost lands on his face while attempting a bow. Several gasps of surprise and shock later, the mouse blinks bashfully and attempts to cover the stump where his tail ought to have been with front paws entirely too short to reach his backside.

"I-I am completely out of countenance," Reep stutters. "I must crave your indulgence for appearing in this unseemly fashion."

The four Kings and Queen behind the poor mouse trade looks of mixed pity and slight amusement as Reepicheep looks to Lucy.

"Um, perhaps, a drop more?"

"I don't think it does that," Lucy answers sadly.

"You could have a go," the worried mouse suggests.

All eyes turn to Aslan when the Lion lets out a rumbling chuckle, golden eyes shining with fondness.

"It becomes you well, small one."

"All the same, Great King," Reepicheep begins, drawing his sword, "I regret that I must withdraw, for a tail is the honor and glory of a mouse." The mouse pads forward and presents the blade to the Lion in open paws, but Aslan makes no move to accept the offering.

"Perhaps you think too much of your honor, friend."

"Well i-it's not just the honor. I-It's also great for balance." The Kings and Queens begin to smile, but Reep doesn't notice. "And climbing. A-and grabbing things," he continues, oblivious to the amused smiles behind him.

The amusement quiets when the sound of six other tiny swords bring drawn from their scabbards rings through the air.

"May it please Your High Majesty," says Peepiceep. "We will not bear the shame of wearing an honor denied to our chief." With that, the six mice hold their swords to their tails as Reepicheep turns to regard them all with surprise. For Caspian's part, the loyalty of these mice to their leader touches him and makes him hope he will be so lucky in his reign to have friends such as that.

"Not for the sake of your dignity, but for the love of your people," Aslan says.

Reepicheep turns to face the Lion once more, thus giving the five Kings and Queens behind him a full-on view as his tail grows back.

Peepiceep gasps, and Reepicheep perks up as the realization dawns on him. The hopeful mouse looks over his back, to see his new tail, immediately letting out a relieved laugh when he sees it there. His joy brings cheery laughs from the Kings and Queens and a wider smile from the Lion.

"Look, look!" Reep exclaims, clutching his new tail and brandishing his sword high in the air. "Thank you, thank you my Liege! I will treasure it always! From this day forward it will serve as a great reminder of my huge humility!"

Caspian laughs heartily along with the Pevensies and the Great Lion, but his eyes return to the tree hiding the owner of the brown eyes from his view. Ah, but there they are again, sparkling with the same amusement and happiness everyone looking on at the scene can express freely with laughter. Those eyes laugh in silence and sweep around to take everything in, stopping to stare in utter awe at the Lion's back. Caspian's eyes remain on the peeking ones, and they don't leave until those brown eyes meet his again, this time disappearing for good into the woods. He sees a lock of black hair dart out from behind the tree trunk as the eyes widen and their owner darts off into the woods.

Caspian returns his attention to the people and creatures around him, but the curiously fearless brown eyes stay in his mind's eye the rest of the afternoon. And when Edmund elbows him and asks if by jove, he's found himself a girl, Caspian tries to brush it off, but the one thing he can't do is stop his ears from turning a bit warm.

* * *

He saw the same eyes amid the crowd in the streets of the city during his coronation procession to the castle he can now call his own. At first, he didn't recognize them. But when they darted away from his gaze, he knew they were the same eyes he saw peeking out from the tree back at Beruna, even if he forgot about both occurrences until now.

And now she lives in the city just outside his castle. Caspian briefly wonders if there might be a way to talk to her, to sate his own curiosity as to her utter lack of fear at Beruna. But just as soon as he thinks it, he realizes it probably isn't possible. He hasn't even the faintest idea where in the city she lives, and some nagging sense of etiquette tells him that going door to door might not be the best plan he's ever had. After all, he is king now, and there are other things to tend to besides his curiosity about one young woman.

Destrier seems to sense his indecision, and picks up speed. The sudden rush of wind in his face helps Caspian X to think more practically. No, he shouldn't seek her out. In any case, it wasn't as if she seemed to be eager to speak to him. She was respectful, and nothing more. Withdrawn, even. Something short of distrustful, but not entirely welcoming either. Maybe that was simply her way, but Caspian didn't think she'd appreciate being sought out. She'd seemed intimidated enough when he stopped to apologize, after she saw who he was that is, even though it was only the polite thing to do, especially to a lady.

So much for relaxing. Glenstorm would not approve.

Out of the blue, the restless king suddenly wonders what his father would have thought of her, the young woman with the curious eyes.

Suddenly Caspian isn't so willing to forget about her. Rosamar, that was her name wasn't it? Maybe he ought to ask Professor Cornelius's advice. He always seems to know what's best for him, and his advice has never failed yet. Yes, he would talk to the Professor about seeking out Rosamar.

Even if it was a foolish idea, it might turn out to be something unexpectedly pleasant. Some of the lords had been whispering concerns about his infatuation with the Gentle Queen still having a hold on him; maybe they'd quiet their worrying if he at least attempted to get to know another young woman.

And yet, he was almost sure that Rosamar would not quite be pleased with such a move on his part. She seemed the guarded sort; why would she welcome a troubled king butting his way into her surely busy life? She'd never outright say she didn't appreciate it, naturally, but he had serious doubts she'd wish for his attentions given the choice. Did he even have time to give them, in any case?

No, he has even less time to give them than she has to receive them, this he knows. This day of freedom was a rare day, that he found time to leave the castle. And the only reason he had the time now was because Glenstorm arranged it! No, it was foolish to think he could seek her out and expect either of them to want to explore any sort of friendship. Time and circumstances simply wouldn't permit such an action.

Why did that bother him? He was a King of Narnia! It was his duty, his happy responsibility to sacrifice his wants and desires for his country's needs. What a marvelous job he was doing of acting on that duty now, riding away into the forest when there was work to be done. What kind of a king was he? What would his father think, of his son running from the stresses of ruling for even a few hours?

_Disappointment, that's what._

Caspian swallows the knot in his throat and slows Destrier to a trot to safely turn around. He's about to spur his loyal horse into a gallop back toward the castle and his duties awaiting him there, but he notices the horse breathing hard. So he waits a little while. But as soon as Destrier is recovered, he rides back.

He has duties to fulfill.


	5. The Search Continues

**(Rose POV)**

Hopefully that dagger's ready today. If I'm to be the protector of Tanssi Kuun like Aunt said, I'd best have some sort of weapon. It's been half a week since I visited the blacksmith's, and he did say he'd have it done in a few days.

I hurry up and finish my last basket of wool for today and bid my evening goodbyes to Lilia and Sima, both of whom give me a hug before I leave.

"Until tomorrow, Rose," Lilia says.

"Bright and early," I answer, as is our ritual.

We share a brief smile before I tug on my cloak and step out into the street. The walk to the blacksmith's proves as short as I remember, and I almost hum in contentment as the warmth from the smithing fire wraps around my chilled form. Though it's getting to be spring now, the nights are still rather cold.

"Ah, welcome back Rosamar. Your dagger, as promised."

The blacksmith, Darin, greets me with a friendly smile and eyes dancing with firelight as he holds out what I can only assume to be my dagger. I can't help but smile as I look it over. Thin blade, engraved with designs so intricate I can barely fathom how or why he made something so beautiful for me. The handle is all earthy colors and leather wrapping to make it comfortable to hold. In so many ways, it's what I've imagined Tanssi Kuun to be like.

"It's exquisite," I murmur, almost without realizing it.

"As is its owner."

"Hm?" I must have heard him wrong; I'm really quite plain, and everyone knows it too.

"Never mind. Here, hold it. It's yours, after all," he says, laying the intricately fashioned weapon in my hand. I can't seem to stop staring at it.

I start to dig out my purse with my free hand, but Darin stops me with a shake of his head.

"Don't worry about that."

Instantly, a spurt of anger runs through me. Does he think I can't afford this? He must see my anger, because he lifts two hands in a placating gesture. Still, I keep my piece and don't say anything. I merely nod and murmur a quick 'thank you' before turning to go.

"Wait!"

I purse my lips into a thin line, but I wait.

"Do you plan to attend the faire tomorrow?"

"I hate crowds," I answer simply. Why would he ask that, anyhow?

"As do I. However, perhaps I might see you there?"

"If you like." I'm so certain he's only joking that it takes me a moment to process his reply.

"Yes, I would like that. I'm a hopeless dancer, you see, and perhaps you could teach me?"

"Maybe I'm rubbish at dancing too," I challenge, turning sideways to regard him carefully. What is he playing at?

"I doubt it."

"And what makes you so sure?"

Darin shrugs and pulls a red-hot piece of metal from the fire. "Intuition," is all he says before he starts to hammer away at his new project.

My lips press into a thinner line, but I can't say I'm not tempted. It might be nice to dance with someone my height rather than the odd child here and there. "Alright then."

His hammering stops instantly and he turns to face me slowly. "What?"

"Well, you asked," I say with a shrug.

He stares at me for a few long, uncomfortable moments before a boyish grin breaks out on his face.

"Until tomorrow then, Rosamar," he replies, still smiling at me.

I tip my head slightly to the side in confusion, but I nod my affirmation. "Until tomorrow," I echo, turning to go. I just catch the sight of his grin spreading into a giddy smile before I disappear out the door.

The very moment I'm outside, I almost hit myself in the forehead. Yes, that's a brilliant idea. Go to the faire, Rose, and teach a young man you met only days ago to dance. That's just the smartest idea I've had in a while. I can't wait to see what other grand ideas I act on tomorrow night.

Rolling my eyes at my inner dialogue, I tap the side of my head with two fingers to clear it and hustle down the street and towards the bridge. Time to try and find my entry tree…again.

At that thought, I have to fight back a sigh of frustration. It's been over a year since Aunt gave me this pendant, the one still hanging from my neck, and still I've yet to find my way into Tanssi Kuun. What if something's happened while I've wandered around uselessly looking for it? Am I just looking in the wrong place? But I searched every single tree near Beruna, and I had no luck, and I've searched only half of the trees within walking distance here. I wish Aunt could have given me some sort of clue as to what it might look like, other than that it has an engraving on its trunk matching the pendant.

More thoughts I try to force down come bubbling up as I start across the bridge.

_What if Tanssi Kuun is deliberately hiding itself from me?_

_What if I'm not fit to be its protector?_

_What if-_

"No, stop," I order myself in a stern whisper. I can't afford to indulge in my self-doubt, not while I have to concentrate all my energy on finding my entry tree.

In response to my urgent thought, I walk a bit faster and search a bit more determinedly than before when I finally get to the woods.

Hours pass, and soon the moon is high in the sky. I go deeper and deeper in, hoping that maybe it's just hidden deep in the forest and if I just go deep enough, maybe I'll stumble across it.

But I have no luck; I've learned this the hard way.

By the time the sky turns to grey, I've had enough.

"Where are you?!" I suddenly scream, vaguely aware of a trail of something warm and wet running down my cheek.

Silence greets my desperation.

"How can I protect you if I don't know where you are? Please, just _stop hiding_!" My voice sounds so foreign to my ears. It's been years since I raised it above its normal volume.

More silence.

"PLEASE!"

Somehow, I find myself on my knees, and then on my hands too, leaning over the forest floor, defeated."I know I'm nothing, I know I'm not very good at protecting. But I could learn, don't you see? I _want_ to learn!" I pause to choke on a particularly violent cry. "Aunt charged me with protecting you, don't you understand?! She thought I could do it! Just let me try, _please_!"

I'm greeted with nothing more than a gradual lightening of the sky.

"I know I may need you more than you need me, but please, just one chance!"

I don't know if I get an answer, because my face hits the leaves before I can look around. I really hate crying. It makes me feel so weak. And yet here I am, bawling like an infant for milk. What am I?!

I take a deep and shaky breath. This isn't what a protector does. A protector isn't weak. How can I hope to be what Tanssi Kuun needs if I can't even control my own emotions?

With that, I swallow every last tear and push myself upright with infuriatingly shaky hands.

"S-stop it," I order. There's no bite to it. "Stop!" There, much better. My shaking ceases, and I pull myself to my feet. I brush myself off and wipe the streaks of dirt and leaves from my face. No need for any of that. A protector is strong; a protector doesn't cry. A protector doesn't _need_ to cry.

I straighten my neck and hold my head up as high as I can. No more of this; I can find Tanssi Kuun, I _will_ find Tanssi Kuun, and I'm going to be patient and just keep searching until I do. And that's all there is to it.

Suddenly, I realize how close dawn is. I've got barely over an hour to be back at the workshop. I don't want to have to come up with an excuse for being late, especially since Sima sees through any and all excuses. So I'd best get myself in gear and get my sorry rear end back to the workshop. And maybe I'd better banish the tired lines from my face as best I can while I'm at it. Lilia worried for a week last time she found out I didn't sleep at all one night.

I rush myself back to the city, and I skid into the workshop just as Sima opens her mouth to call for me. "Ah, just in time Rose, child! I was about to call for you."

"So it seemed," I answer mildly as I scurry over to my little carding stool and take my first of many handfuls of wool for today's work.

"Why, Rose, you look worn as a rag. What's the matter?"

I groan inwardly at my failure to wipe the last traces of exhaustion from my face.

"Just a long night, Lilia. That's all."

It doesn't take a genius to tell that neither Lilia nor Sima are convinced, but they're kind enough to not ask me anything further. I sit down and work tirelessly the rest of the day, wishing that I wasn't so used to carding as I am now. The ache in my shoulders would actually be very welcome now; it'd keep my mind singularly focused on the work at hand. As it is, it keeps straying back to my doubts and worries.

 _Get a hold of yourself, Rose._ Honestly, do I want the whole city to know my troubles? If they can even be called that. Others go through so much more every day! At least I can say I have food on my table and a roof over my head. That's more than some. Who am I to complain about not being able to find a secret world? I'm lucky to even know of its existence!

Before I even know it, the sun's setting again, and I've carded today's wool all three necessary times.

"Well child, I know you're feeling under the weather, but you do work so well when you're stressed," Sima comments off-handedly as I clean my work station and hand over today's wool.

"Thank you." There was a time I wouldn't have been sure if that was a compliment or not, but now I know Sima well enough to know that yes, it is a compliment.

"Shall we get ready for the faire, Rose?"

I turn to look at Lilia curiously. "How did you know I was going?"

She doesn't answer for a moment, just looks at me with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "I didn't. Until you just confessed, that is."

I almost groan. "That never ceases to fool me," I grumble.

"And I sincerely hope it never will," she laughs as we wave goodbye to Sima and walk toward our homes, arm in arm.

"You just enjoy getting a rise out of me, that's all."

"Oh no, not at all! I don't think even the King of Narnia could get a rise out of you, Rose. You're very reserved. I just like messing with you."

"Well, thank you. I'll take it as a compliment."

"You're welcome," she says simply, steering me toward her hut with it's door that's splintering around the knob.

"Er, Lilia? I've got to get ready," I remind her, gently trying to extricate my arm from her grip.

"We can get ready together," she chirps back.

"You sound like a bird," I mutter. She really did, too.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she fires back, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

"Now you're just making fun of me."

"No, just messing with you. You know how mischievous I get."

"I'm afraid I do," I sigh. "Come on then, let's get ready."

And get ready we do. Her home is almost exactly the same as mine; same furniture, same wear and tear rounding the table corners and same creaky bedsprings and same soot-covered fireplace. It's not so different from getting dressed at my own home, but for Lilia's extra beauty supplies. I've never felt the need to dust the pink powder on my cheeks myself, but tonight, apparently, it's a necessity. I really didn't expect to be done up quite as much as she insists on. Lilia even pulls half my hair back into some intricate sort of braid I could never hope to figure out, not in a millennia.

"Why are we getting to dressed up?" I wonder aloud.

"It's the faire! THE faire! Everyone dresses up," she answers as she begins work on her own hair, now that mine's finished with a lavender wildflower tucked behind my ear.

"What is it, exactly?"

"Well, think of it like a celebration of all the work we all do, day in and day out. Everyone just takes an evening to dance and maybe even buy something other than necessities, if they're lucky."

"Dancing?" So that's why Darin talked about me teaching him to dance. Though I still have no idea why he's so sure I know how. I do, I love to dance, but how would he guess that?

"And music, too. Some of the prettiest music you'll ever hear. And this year is likely to be one of the best. We'll have Narnian music as well as Telmarine, you know!"

"One of the many good things of having King Caspian X on the throne," I comment.

"Indeed. Though I think most of the female gender are far more interested in the bonuses of being his queen than the good things his rule may bring," Lilia laughs knowingly.

I know exactly what she means; barely a day can go by without at least one girl mentioning how handsome/brave/dashing/desirable/courteous/etc. he is. Though after he stopped to apologize after almost running me over yesterday, I think I understand the courteous ravings.

Why did he stare at me? He almost looked as if he recognized me, but that's so impossible I could laugh at my own foolishness. That was a long time ago, and we never even spoke.

"Hello? Rose?"

I start back to the present when Lilia snaps her fingers inches from my eyes. "Sorry, just lost in thought."

"About King Caspian?" she teases.

"He apologized for almost running me over, that's all. I just found it odd."

"I beg your pardon?"

"What?"

"You never told me you met the king!"

"I didn't, not really. In any case, it really wasn't anything special."

"Well, still, humor me?" Lilia looks so eager I can't refuse her, even if I'm silently thinking she doesn't need quite so much black lining her eyes.

"I was walking down the street, and he came tearing down toward me. I leaped to the side just in time, but he still halted his horse and apologized for almost running me over."

"A very thoughtful thing to do," she muses.

"Odd, wasn't it?" I murmur, as much to myself as to Lilia.

"It was only the polite thing."

I nod, satisfied. I'm still getting used to the different etiquette here in the city, even though I've been here many months now. People are nicer here than they were in Beruna. They still have their faults, but as a whole they are a bit kinder.

"He must be stressed."

"Wouldn't you be if you had to unite a country?"

"We all would, I think," I laugh.

She nods, and I wait in patience until she finishes. I'm as ready as I'll be, and I see no need to add some of that dark stuff to my eyes. Lilia's eyes do look brighter than usual thanks to her expert lining job, but I think a pink lip stain and powder is the most she'll get me into tonight.

Once she's done, I move to walk outside, but she stops me with a hand on my arm. "Rose, are you certain you're alright? You seem very tired more and more. Sometimes I've gone to check on you at night, and some nights you're not there."

"I'm alright, Lilia, really," I insist as I slip my arm free.

"Where do you go at night? And why is there a dagger in your room now? I'm worried about you, as a friend. Can you tell me what's going on?"

"I'm alright!" I insist firmly. "I got that dagger because I remembered my parents warned me to keep some sort of weapon around, just in case." I hate lying, but I'll do anything to protect Tanssi Kuun.

Lilia fixes me with a piercing stare for a moment, but I stay steady and meet her gaze. To my satisfaction, she nods after a few moments. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume. I was just worried about you."

"I know. It's alright, you're forgiven," I answer mildly as we link arms again and head out.

"Well that's certainly a relief. But honestly, would you think it prying if I asked where you go some nights?"

"I love to dance, but I'm rather self-conscious. I like dancing at night, because people can't see then." It's half-true, after all. The half-truth rolls off my tongue a lot easier than the lie about my dagger did.

"Ah, I understand."

I almost sigh in relief, but I manage to hold it in. I've got a good amount of practice holding things in, thank goodness.

A brief silence follows before Lilia brings up something entirely uncomfortable for me as we finally leave her hut and start off down the street toward the city square.

"So. The faire." Could the mischief in her voice _be_ more obvious?

"What about it?" I ask carefully. I make a point to look down at the uneven cobblestones under my feet as if I'm afraid of tripping.

"What made you decide to go?"

Oh no.

"Well…I…um…er…"

"Stunning vocabulary Rose, really."

I roll my eyes and pray I can distract her. But I've not the slightest idea _how_. "Thank you too much. I practice all day, you know."

"I'm sure you do. Is it a boy?"

"Well if you want the truth, he's a bit older than 'boy'," I grumble, eyes still on the ground even as I silently curse the warmth prickling at my cheeks..

"I knew it!"

"Congratulations." Heavens forgive my insincere humor.

"Who?"

"Careful Lilia I'd like to keep this arm. I might need it later," I say as I wriggle my arm in her now deathly tight grip. She was the one to insist on this dress, after all. I think she'd like to keep her own dress from being wrinkled. It even matches the flower she put in my hair.

"Who?!"

I sigh and accept that the sooner I tell her, the sooner she'll leave it lie. "The blacksmith, Darin."

"Well, it's about time!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"He's a quiet, reserved one too. It's about time you both got out. And what better way to get out than with someone as equally guarded?" she reasons.

"Thank you for the encouragement, I suppose." Really, I don't see why it's a big deal. He's a young man, and I'm a young woman, and that's all there is. Nothing else complicated, I'm sure of it. Even if there was, I'd have neither the time nor the patience for it.

"You're welcome."

I make a point of not responding when she pokes me in the ribs with a positively devious sparkle in her brown eyes.

Before much longer, we reach the city square, where the faire is already in full swing.

Sure enough, Darin is here. But the bigger surprise is this:

So is the king.


	6. The Faire

**(Rose POV)**

"By the Lion, the king!" Lilia blurts out, eyes surely bugging out of her head. I'd look and see the amusing sight for myself, but I'm far too distracted looking on with equal surprise.

"Er…yes, it would seem so," I offer weakly.

"What a surprise!"

Surprise, indeed! But thankfully, before we gape too much and make ourselves look like the fools we are, Darin notices our arrival and casually makes his way over, stepping with ease over the uneven and stained cobblestones.

"You came after all," he says as he greets me with a small, playful bow.

"I said I would, didn't I?"

I don't miss Lilia's wink.

"And yet I'm still surprised." At this point, he turns and bows the same small bow to Lilia. "I don't believe we've met. I'm-"

"Darin, I'm guessing?"

I fully ignore her discreet pinch on my arm and swallow my yelp.

"Indeed. And you are?"

"Lilia. Rosamar's partner-in-crime, if you will."

"Crime, you say?"

Would the both of them stop with the twinkling mischief in their eyes?

"Yes, I did," she answers.

"Then perhaps I might steal Rose for a bit? She promised to teach me to dance, you see."

"By all means, steal her away. Only you must promise to bring her back before dawn tomorrow," laughs my traitorous 'partner-in-crime.' I'd pinch her arm in reprimand, but she'd surely give me away and then this whole thing would be even more embarrassing.

"You have my word," Darin laughs in reply as she smirks and quickly disappears into the crowd. He offers me his arm, a gesture that earns him a raise of my eyebrow.

"You know I don't like crowds," I say simply. He opens his mouth to reply, but I cut him off, though I shock myself with my audacity to do so. "And I made no promise to teach you. I simply agreed."

"Is there a difference?" he asks, brown eyes still glittering with mischief. Perhaps he and Lilia ought to 'get together,' as she put it.

"Yes," I answer coolly.

"Then forgive me," he says, immediately bending at the waist again.

"Oh hush and come with me," I snap, surprising myself with the playful undertone in my voice.

He lifts his hands in the same placating gesture he used yesterday.

"Keep using that gesture, Darin, and it just might lose its effectiveness," I warn him. Where on earth is this side of me coming from?

He says nothing, but I can tell he's smiling to himself; his lips are twitching just a bit at the corners.

I lead us to a side street still in view of the crowd, but out of the way of it. I don't want this to look scandalous, but I'm not comfortable around mobs of people either. I wait patiently for the next song to start, and then I move into position. "Stand here, in front of me."

Darin does as he's told, but he wears the most infuriating little smirk the whole time.

"Now-" I'm abruptly cut off when he reaches forward, takes my hand, and spins me toward him and into a dance. The little…he does know how to dance! "You liar!" I spit in the midst of a particularly dizzying spin.

"Pay attention, and you may notice my utter lack of grace," he answers calmly. Still smirking, I might add.

I purse my lips, but I do pay attention. And he's entirely correct. "Don't clomp around like a cow in shoes ten sizes too big," I fire back. "Dancing isn't meant to be done clodhopping around."

He tries to obey, but doesn't seem to have it in him. I suppose blacksmiths don't have to be graceful very often.

"Dance on eggshells."

I almost snort out a laugh when he slows down far too much for the song to allow and tiptoes around.

"Settle in your body, but stand tall. Does that make sense?"

By his face, it makes about as much sense as telling a horse to lay an egg. So I stop the dance and have him stand still.

"Feel the ground under your feet. Use it as your support, your base if you will."

He tries, and does a bit better. A few more strange instructions later, he's much lighter on his feet.

"Much better," I finally say, giving him his first dose of praise since we started. He's earned it, even if I'm only admitting it grudgingly. The beaming smile that comes over his face brings a half-smile to my own.

"I knew you could teach well," he says, almost with a hint of smugness.

"No, you just wanted to get me in this alcove alone. Though why exactly is a question I don't know the answer to just yet."

"Time will tell," he says with a shrug, his ears almost disappearing into his shoulders. This man changes with the wind. One moment he's confident, almost flirty, and the next he's sheepish and unsure. But I don't have the need to try and reason it out, so I change the subject.

"Well, I do believe you're ready to join the crowd in the dances now." I move to walk away, but he taps my hand as soon as I start to turn.

"Don't you remember I don't like crowds either?"

"Why did you want to learn to dance, then?"

He doesn't answer; he just holds his hand out to me. At first, I'm inclined not to take it, but something in his eye, a hidden sort of gentleness there, changes my mind. So I place my hand in his and even let him lead.

I do enjoy the dance, just a little. Most likely because my arm isn't being pulled from my socket anymore.

"I believe your instruction helped, Rosamar. Thank you," he says, seemingly sincere.

"You're welcome," is my simple answer.

He says nothing more, and I don't either. The song ends and so does our dance. And the silence, which I was rather enjoying.

"Why did you need a dagger?"

Instantly, I stiffen. Is it really so suspicious for a young woman to want a small weapon? A young woman who lives alone in the middle of a bustling city? "Protection."

"From…?" he presses on.

"Nothing in particular, I suppose."

"Just protection?"

"Yes." More for a world I haven't yet found than me myself, but no one needs to know that.

He raises his eyebrows, but doesn't press me further. "You seem tired."

I fight back an exasperated sigh. I really need to work on hiding it, if it's so obvious that two people in the same day notice it. Do I have bags under my eyes, or some such nonsense? I'll be supremely annoyed if I actually have to ask Lilia to help me with face powder. "Long night."

"Is there anything I might do?"

 _Shushing up about it, maybe._ Out loud, I say, "I suspect not."

"Try me? For the sake of argument, if nothing else?"

I fight an urge to roll my eyes. "I was just searching for something. Something I've been looking for for quite a long time."

"Oh?"

Somehow, his one syllable question makes it so very hard to say nothing more. And oh, how I hate that! It takes all I can not to glare death at him, this frustrating blacksmith who's far too curious about things that do not concern him at all. "Curious?"

"I confess so, yes," he admits shamelessly.

"Stew in it," I mumble, before I can censor myself.

He stares at me for a long moment before bursting out into laughter.

"I'm glad this amuses you," I comment dryly, perching a hand on my hip in spite of my better judgment.

"Forgive me, Rosamar, but it was quite a surprise to hear you say that."

_Such a sincere apology, Darin, really._

"I'll think about it."

"But honestly, you could tell me if you wanted to."

I do wish he wouldn't look at me quite so earnestly. "Well, I don't," I reply. Does he enjoy trying my patience so?

"Then why did you mention searching at all?"

"Because you kept pressing me!"

"I did no such thing."

"Yes, yes you did."

His hands go up again in his placating gesture, and it does little to calm me. "Forgive me."

"As I said, I'll consider it."

"Well, at least that wasn't a 'no'."

I pinch my lips together and look to the side.

"I could help you look, if you like," he suggests, as mildly as he seems to be capable of. It's still infuriating.

"I'm alright, thank you."

Darin regards me almost amusedly. "I didn't ask if you were alright, I asked if you would like help looking."

"No, you didn't ask at all."

"I _offered_. Is that not close enough?"

"This is ridiculous," I state flatly.

"I quite agree. So would you like the help or no?"

I think it over. No one's offered to help before, and if he doesn't know the significance of what I'm looking for, perhaps it's alright. Wait, no, no! What if someone were to ask him about the pendant, or an engraving on a tree?!

But I haven't mentioned anything about a pendant or the like, nor do I intend to. It just might be safe enough. And I can't leave that world unprotected for any longer. Much as I'm loathe to admit it, I could definitely use the help. "Well…I suppose, if you like," I finally say, staring down at the grey stones beneath my feet like they can take back the risk I just took.

"I would like to help, yes. Now, what is it you've been searching for?"

"I need to find an engraving on a tree. It's very unique, but I've been looking for over a year with no luck."

"An engraving, on a tree?"

"Yes, isn't that what I just said?"

"Do you have any idea where this tree might be?"

"I've been going through the entire surrounding forest," I admit. "And gotten lost more than I care to say."

"So that's a no. Any ideas what this tree looks like?"

I stay silent.

"I suppose that's a no as well." He sighs, but he doesn't take back his offer.

"I search at night. Is that a problem?"

"Sleep is not one of my steadier companions."

"I'll see you at the bridge in two days then."

"As soon as it's dark?"

I nod simply, and then there's nothing more to say.

"Well Rosamar, shall we return to the festivities?"

"What happened to not liking crowds?"

"We can complain together."

For some reason, that strikes me as amusing, and I let him lead us back to the crowd. As luck would have it, a new song starts just as we enter the madness of swirling skirts and bowing figures. Darin offers me his hand, and I surprise us both by taking it. However, it turns out this is a more Narnian song, so everyone dances with everyone. So much for complaining together. Oh well.

I spin through so many partners I lose track of how many there are, and just as their faces begin to blur together, I'm suddenly very aware of who I'm dancing with. Painfully aware, to be exact.

"Your Majesty," I greet respectfully, dipping my head down, which is almost more than the dance will allow.

"Rosamar," he replies, smiling a soft kind of smile that has me staring at him in confusion.

"You remembered my name?" I blurt out.

If he notices the utter idiocy of my question, he either doesn't care or doesn't show it. He just keeps smiling, though his smile does get a little wider. Oddly, when we're supposed to change partners, he stays with me. Or is it that the song's changed and I didn't notice?

"Your Majesty, I think-"

"Caspian."

"Beg pardon?"

"You may call me Caspian, if you like."

"You're the king," I say stupidly. What is the matter with me? Of course he's the king!

"So I am," he answers, seemingly amused. With good reason, if you ask me.

"Is it respectful?"

"I don't mind it," he says.

I study him discreetly as he again holds on to me. He seems sincere, but I can't be sure. He's as good at masks as I am, naturally. Politics will do that to a person, I imagine. "If you like, then."

"I hear 'Your Majesty' and 'My Liege' and the like often enough. I think I'd like to hear my own name more."

A sudden thought strikes me, and I mentally curse myself when it flies from my lips. "Because it was your father's name too?" As soon as I ask that, I wish I could take it back and find myself babbling an apology. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"I suppose you're right, Rosamar. I simply never realized it before now."

It takes me many, many moments to process that. "Still, I apologize." Finally, something not entirely ridiculous.

"There's no need for it, I assure you."

Maybe coming from someone else, I'd have some sort of response. But coming from a king? I'm left with nothing even remotely intelligent. So I keep my silly mouth shut the rest of the dance. King Caspian does as well, but he won't cease looking at my eyes.

The song ends, and just as I'm about to either ask him what's so fascinating about my eyes or leave, he speaks up. "Why were you not afraid?"

"Beg pardon, Your Maj- Caspian?"

"After the Battle of Beruna, you were watching, and I couldn't help but notice your lack of fear. It was so unusual that I couldn't forget it. Aslan is no tame lion, after all, and few Telmarines I know would do anything but scream."

Only when amusement flickers in King Caspian's eyes do I realize that my jaw's hanging open. I clap it shut, but I still have quite a time summoning anything coherent to say. "That was a long time ago…how did you know it was me?" Of course I remember sneaking around to get a peek of the great lion everyone was whispering about, but I'd almost forgotten that King Caspian, prince back then, had seen me and said nothing. I left for the city the very same day.

"I suppose it was a lucky guess."

I can tell he's leaving something out, but I don't press him. He is still the king, after all! But I do have to come up with something to say; he's waiting expectantly. "I…well, because I was so entirely sour towards my fellow Telmarines, I suppose." Maybe it was because Aunt told me about Tanssi Kuun too and magical creatures were wonderful to me and not fearsome, but I'm not about to mention that to anyone, let alone someone I've only spoken to twice.

I try to ignore that I've only really spoken with Darin thrice and already I'm allowing him to help me find that entry tree.

"Is that all?" King Caspian seems so perplexed by this.

"Maybe stories my aunt would tell me had something to do with it as well," I admit.

"Stories? Your aunt told you stories about Narnia?"

"No, just stories about fantastical things. I always loved those stories."

King Caspian seems like he's about to ask what they were about, but something in my face stops him. He looks in my eyes and swallows whatever he was about to say. I silently thank him with the same eyes he keeps looking back to. A moment or two of silence passes between the two of us, and then King Caspian's bowing and excusing himself and I'm nodding and saying goodbye in a daze.

I just had a conversation with the king. No, that's not the remarkable part. The king, the KING of Narnia, knew who I was. How on earth did he know it was me, peeking out from behind that tree at Beruna so long ago? How could he remember something so insignificant in the wake of the battle that decided the fate of Narnia?

And then I remember my aunt, and her stories, and I have to swallow the lump that quickly forms in my throat. What would she think of me, failing to protect Tanssi Kuun? Failing to find my entry tree, for over a year? A year Tanssi Kuun has been without a protector.

She'd be so disappointed.

I swallow again, and again. It vaguely strikes me how much I want to be able to confide in someone about this, but I know I simply can't. Tanssi Kuun is far too important to put in danger simply because I'm under a bit of stress. What could be more selfish than that? No, but what if keeping it so secret is selfish? Am I harming it by refusing to ask for help? If I am, I hope I remedied that tonight by accepting help from Darin. I only hope I don't regret that. How I could use my aunt's advice right now! She always seemed to know just what to do! And here I am, failing consistently. She really would be disappointed, wouldn't she?

Realizing my eyes are watering against my will, I dart off from the crowd and slip into an abandoned alley, where I know I won't be found. Here, I can take just a minute to collect myself. For a minute and a minute only, I indulge in all my doubt and self-imposed guilt. I let a few tears slip down my cheeks, and then my minute's up. I stand once more, wipe the evidence of my weakness from my cheeks. And I return to the crowds, but only to find Lilia and tell her I'm going to bed. I need to catch a few hours of sleep before I'll be strong enough to go and search for my entry tree again.

Luckily for me, I find Lilia without too much trouble. She looks a bit downcast that I'm calling it a night 'so soon,' but when she sees the bags under my eyes, she pats me on the shoulder and tells me to go ahead and get some sleep. I'm only too happy to obey.

"Leaving so soon?"

"I need a few hours' sleep before I go out again tonight," I tell Darin.

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight," I reply wearily.

"I'll be at the bridge waiting then."

"You don't have to-"

"Rosamar, go get some sleep. I'll be there."

I'm too tired to argue. My little self-pity fest took a bit more out of me than I thought it would. The walk home seems to take forever, but I manage it. How could I not? I clutch the pendant around my neck, hidden under my clothes, to remind me what's really important. Not me, not my sleep, not anything else but a world that needs protection. A world I've been entrusted with. A world I'll do anything for, because that's what Aunt would have done.


	7. The Tree

**(Rose POV)**

Miraculously, I wake exactly when I planned to, just as the night is quiet and the stars are high. I dress quickly and pull my cloak on as I slip outside. I'm careful to be silent as a cat, just in case Lilia's still up, though I doubt she is at this hour. Still, I can't be too careful. Even more amazing than my relative state of wakefulness: Darin's there at the bridge, just as he said he would be.

"I wasn't sure you would be here," I admit in a whisper as I approach, my breath clouding in front of me.

"Well, here I am," he answers with a somehow charming smile.

"You only just met me…"

"How long I've known you does not matter."

I didn't realize I said that aloud. Thank goodness the moon is barely a sliver tonight, so my slight embarrassment remains hidden. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet; we haven't found your tree."

I answer his chuckle with a smile and lead the way onward. "Thank you for coming anyway."

"You're welcome."

We walk along, myself much quieter than my companion, and soon enough we're in the woods. Thoughts of whether this is a truly wise decision swirl in my head as we progress through the trees. I could keep looking on my own, but how much longer will that take? "Try and keep up," I find myself whispering, as much to distract myself from my doubts as to jest with Darin.

"Where do we start?" he huffs, branches cracking under his feet as he struggles to follow me closely.

"We're almost there. I've checked all of these." Darin nods and follows me along until I come to a stop at the line I drew in the ground last night. "Start here. Stay to the left, I'll stay to the right. Check all of them for an engraving."

"Why do you get the right side?" There's just enough moonlight for me to see the glint in his eye.

"Would you prefer the right?" I counter, rolling my eyes.

He just shakes his head and smiles. "What does it look like?"

I can't show him the pendant; I know that. So I scribble a rough sketch in the dirt. "Something very similar to that."

"Similar? How will I know I found the right one? There might be more than one, you know."

"Shush and just start looking, Darin."

We split up. It continues on much the same as every night since I moved to the city; I check each and every tree I come to meticulously. Aunt never said where the engraving would be, so I run my practiced hands over the bark I can reach before I move on. Somehow I doubt the engraving would be higher than I can reach, if it's specifically my entry tree.

The first hour goes by, and my lack of sleep starts to catch up to me, as it always does. I start my ritual of pinching the tender skin between my thumb and index finger to keep myself alert.

"Any luck, Darin?" I call.

"Not thus far," he calls back, sounding much more awake than I'd have expected. I have to admit, I'm a little impressed.

The second hour passes with the same results, and Darin surprises me. He doesn't complain of boredom, and he doesn't leave, and he doesn't give up. He just carries on, as tirelessly as me. I can't help but be more and more intrigued as the minutes tick maddeningly by. No one's ever helped me like this before. How does this man who only met me yesterday care so much? It's as baffling as it is flattering. I'm glad to have found a friend in my search, even one who knows so little. Perhaps that's the truly extraordinary part of it; Darin knows only the bare minimum he needs to help me, and he never presses for more information. He just searches without question, without complaint. And I can't understand it.

First the dagger, now this. I owe him twice over now. Somehow, I don't think he minds. If I was crazy, I might even think he doesn't care, but I'm not quite that far gone yet. Though if I can't find my entry tree soon, I might very well go mad.

"Rosamar!"

I start from my gloomy thoughts with a sharp, "What?"

"You'd better come look at this."

Could it be-? No. No, I couldn't get my hopes up, just in case Darin's mistaken or playing some sick joke. But still, hope bubbles in my chest against my will. Though I try to walk at a measured pace over to Darin, I break into a run before I even take two steps. After over a year, is it possible that-?

"Where? Show me!" I demand as soon as I find my voice again and I've skidded up next to him.

"Here, look." Darin guides my hand to a piece of bark at chest-level, and I almost break into tears right there. I can tell just by feel that it's the exact design of the pendant around my neck.

"By the Lion, Darin, you've found it!" I gasp, my free hand fluttering to cover my gaping mouth. I'm incapable of anything other than gasping and staring and mutely wondering how in all the worlds I've gotten this lucky.

"Happy I could help," he whispers in my ear.

I barely hear him. My entry tree. My way into Tanssi Kuun. I've waited so long…will it be everything Aunt said it was?

A sudden cold fear grips my chest. What if it's not?

"Thank you," I breathe out, in spite of my sudden doubts about the secret world. Whether it turns out to be as wonderful as Aunt described it or not, it's still under my care and protection. I'll love it no matter what it is.

"You're welcome," he murmurs, breath still warm against my cheek. It barely occurs to me that I don't really mind. "What is it? Or can you not tell me?"

"I would if I could, believe me. I owe you more than I can say," I breathe out at I trace the etching again and again with reverent fingertips.

He waves off my statement. Waves off the unpayable debt I owe him, as if it's nothing. Who is this man, that he waves off debts? An angel? "As I said, I'm only pleased to have helped you."

In my joy, I almost forget he's there, and I press a fervent kiss to the engraving, my gate into Tanssi Kuun. I've waited so long, too long, to feel that design under my fingertips.

I come back to myself after a single tear of happiness spills from my eye. There'll be time for my emotion later; for now, Darin's earned his rest, and perhaps I have too. "Let's get back. We both need the sleep, I think."

"Wait, one moment," he says. I start to ask why, but when he draws lines in the ground leading to the tree and ties a strip of cloth he rips from the bottom of his shirt to a branch, I understand. I'll want to be able to find this tomorrow. And we're so deep in the forest that someone else stumbling on this is unlikely. Even if they do, I have the only keys.

"Thank you once again," I murmur. I owe him everything.

"Don't mention it," he replies with a smile as he finishes his work.

I can only shake my head in wonder at his kindness and wordlessly lead the way out of the woods back toward the city.

We're both silent the entire way back, though for entirely different reasons; I'm in shock, and he's likely either very understanding or very tired, or quite possibly both. We stop at the end of the bridge, and I repeat my stream of 'thank you's until he hushes me and gently kisses my knuckles while telling me to go home and get some sleep, if I can.

Once again, I'm left speechless. I stand there and watch him go for a good half-minute before I shake myself from my stupor and slip along the dark street toward my home. I have to feel my way a lot of the walk though; my eyes can't stop seeing the engraving there in the tree. Several times I stumble, because my fingers remember the feel of that blessed carving so well.

At last, I stumble inside my hut and ease the door shut as carefully as my shaking hands reasonably can. My thoughts are a complete jumble as I fall into bed, too caught up in this miracle of a night to remember to undress. To my surprise, I fall asleep rather quickly, though I dream of what Tanssi Kuun might be like all night long. It could be a world like the wilds of Narnia, or a desert like Calormen, or a tropical sort of place that I've only heard about in books, or perhaps something altogether unimaginable to me. It could be anything, and Aunt gave me so few hints. By the time morning rolls around, my mind is so exhausted from all its dreaming that I almost sleep in.

"Come on, Rose, up!" I have to order myself in my sternest voice to get my body to listen to me. It only just barely listens, but it does listen. I move about as slow as molasses, and I almost don't make it to my stool in time.

"Rose, child, that's twice in a row you've almost been late! Are you alright?"

"Fine, Sima. I've never been better," I wheeze as I catch my breath and take my first handful of wool for the day.

"How was the faire, Lilia?" I ask, as much out of politeness as to distract them from my sluggish state.

"Everything I thought it would be! There was such dancing, and the music! The young men were very kind as well, and the second one I danced with…"

I smile and nod and hum when needed to keep Lilia chattering on, but my mind's already with Tanssi Kuun. What will the beings that live there be like? Will they look like me? Or are they something of another kind entirely? Will they have heard of me? What will they think? What _do_ they think, if they've already heard of me? Are they angry it's taken me so long to find them? Will they welcome me? What do they do with their time? Is it true what Aunt said about their disagreements? Are they as perfect as she made them seem? What dances can they teach me? What songs do they sing?

"…and you are listening, aren't you?"

"Of course! Please, continue," I reply to Lilia's suspicious question. I ought to feel a bit bad for ignoring her, but I know she wants to talk about the faire, and I want some time where I don't have to say much of anything so I can bask in my curiosity and my pure joy. I want to remember every detail of last night! So really, this arrangement works out well for the both of us. Often, Lilia doesn't really need an audience when she talks; she just needs to feel as if she has one. And besides, it's not as if I can share my good news with her and Sima. First of all, they'd likely never understand. And second of all, even if they would I can't tell them because I can't tell anyone. Tanssi Kuun is a secret for a reason.

It takes me a second too long to figure out that Lilia's ceased her chatting, and I have to scramble for a quick save.

"I'm sorry, I was visualizing. I was a bit distracted there, after all."

It must be convincing, because Lilia and Sima nod. But as soon as I make to return to my carding, Sima pipes up.

"Rose, did you get a wink of sleep last night? You look positively exhausted!"

"More than yesterday?" I joke.

"Yes, more than yesterday. You are alright, aren't you?" Lilia asks.

"Yes, I really am. I promise."

They don't seem entirely convinced, but hopefully my glowing happiness will convince them before too long.

"And as for last night, how did the faire go for you?"

"It went well," I answer simply. My mind simply isn't on the faire, not at all.

"Thank you for sharing the details. Did you dance with anyone?"

"Darin. Oh, and the king," I rattle off. "It was a big Narnian dance, so I danced with a lot of people, actually."

"You danced with the king?!" Lilia screeches.

"As I said, I danced with a lot of people for that dance. He just happened to be one of them."

Sima lets out a barking laugh, and I look up to silently ask why. "See how calm you are, child! Only one with a solid head on her shoulders could be so blasé!" she cackles. I for one can't quite understand what's so funny, but Sima's laugh is contagious and makes the corners of my mouth quirk upward.

Meanwhile, Lilia's jaw hangs slack as her eyes demand more detail than I've provided thus far. "Do we lowly creature receive any more explanation than that, dearest Rose?" she finally stutters out, her shock still written in her bugged eyes and slack jaw.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to come across cold."

"Share a few more details and you'll be quite forgiven."

I laugh and oblige as well as I can. "Well Darin talked me into joining in the dancing. It went by quite fast, and I didn't really pay attention to who I was dancing with from moment to moment because it all spun by. At some point, I realized I was dancing with King Caspian."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long did you dance with King Caspian, you silly thing!"

I reign in my slight impatience and continue answering dutifully, though I'd be lying if I said I don't enjoy this just a little. "A few turns. He seemed to remember me from somewhere…"

"You know him?!"

"He seemed to think so."

"And that's all you're going to say?"

"Should I say more?"

"I confess I am rather curious, in case you have failed to realize that." Lilia does love her sarcasm from time to time.

"Apparently he remembered seeing me somewhere in the crowd during his coronation procession."

"He saw you in the crowd, and he remembered your face?"

"I suppose so," I say with a shrug. For some reason, I don't feel like sharing the more intimate detail that he saw me at Beruna. Something about that feels special enough to keep to myself. I am a private person, after all.

"Well, I think we can all agree that every last woman and girl in this city would die of envy if they knew," Lilia finally laughs.

"Does that include you, or no?"

"Oh no Rose, you're my friend and I can't envy you. However, I can let you know that you are a very lucky young woman."

"I'm not a romantic, Lilia."

"I think we can all agree on that point as well. However, can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that the King of Narnia taking an interest in you, however slight, does _not_ put a bit of a smile on your face?"

"No, of course not. I was shocked, believe me."

"I always believe you."

"Not when I insist I'm alright, though," I point out.

"That's another story," she chuckles, waving it off with ease. I'm still much too ecstatic over last night's little discovery to care.

"In any case, is there any other sharing about last night you'd like to do?"

"I believe I was done, unless you have questions."

"Nothing comes to mind."

"Child, if I didn't know any better, I might think your head is buried in the clouds today," Sima suddenly blurts out.

"Then I'm very happy you know better." My head might be in the clouds, but not for the reason they think. Yes, a king took enough interest in me to say hello. But what is that, compared to finding my entry tree? If my head's to be in the clouds over another person, it'd be over Darin. He was the one who found it, after all. And he came out to help me look for it without knowing but the barest minimum in the dead of night when normal human beings are asleep.

"Rose!"

"Beg pardon?"

"Your head truly is in the clouds, no matter what you say!" Sima exclaims, throwing her hands in the air above her head in exasperation.

"I apologize, I-"

"No need to apologize, simply admit to it," Lilia suggests.

"Alright; yes, my head is in the clouds. Is that better?"

"Much better, yes."

"I'm glad for it." With that, I almost slip away into my own happy, happy thoughts again.

"Oh no, here she goes again!"

"Alright child, we'll just agree to leave you and your blissful thoughts alone for the day. Alright?"

I nod happily to Sima, thankful that she does know when to let me be. "Thank you!"

"Well, all you had to do was ask in the first place."

I just smile at Lilia and marvel at my unusually thick shell. Perhaps I should make more of an effort to be ecstatically happy. I'm not so sensitive as I usually am.

True to their word, Lilia and Sima leave me be for the rest of the day. For them, it seems to fly by. For me, it drags on and on until I have to continually bite my lip to keep from shrieking my impatience for the entire city to hear. At last, at long, long, long last the sun begins to set. My energy's never been this high, so my wool carding for the day is already done. I have to fight hard to keep from squirming in my seat.

"Oh for heaven's sake child, go on now! You've finished for the day; you are free to go," Sima suddenly barks.

I leap from my stool all too happily, knocking it over in the process. After righting it with hands shaking with anticipation, I hurry to stuff the perfectly carded wool into a bag for tomorrow. Once that's done, I dart over and engulf Sima in a crushing hug and practically dance out the door. My excitement knows no bounds now! I'm free to explore Tanssi Kuun, a world I've been waiting anxiously to see for well over a year. How proud Aunt would be of me today! Trusting Darin really was the right thing to do.

By the time I make it to my hut and slip on more appropriate shoes, I can barely keep myself from singing in the loudest voice I own. Getting ready to see this new world is the work of less than 5 minutes, and I literally run out my door by the time the minutes crawl by. At first, I think I have the restraint to merely walk very very quickly, but my feet are much less patient than I think they are; not only do I run out of the city, I full out sprint the entire way to the woods. By the time I get to the tree, my entry tree, I can barely draw breath into my lungs.

"You're worth that run and a million more!" I gasp to the tree as I draw the pendant from under my dress and press it to its matching engraving. I take a deep breath before I utter one word and one word alone.

"Kuu."

For a moment, nothing happens. And then the tree opens; opens! The entire trunk seems to glow from within, and a rectangle exactly the right size for me opens before my eyes. I can barely breath, but somehow my lungs keep working enough to keep me conscious.

"I'll make you proud, Aunt," I promise. Somehow, I get the feeling she can hear me. And other than finally finding my way into Tanssi Kuun, it's the absolute best feeling in the world. "Thank you, Darin," I whisper. I'll never stop owing him for this. With one final heaving breath of air, I step into the open tree.

Tanssi Kuun lies before my eyes.


	8. A Strange Welcome

**(Rose POV)**

"Unbelievable." Even my awed whisper seems far too loud. I've never been somewhere so quiet.

Is it night here too? Or is it always like this, with the stars twinkling down from a cloudless sky? Where is the moon? And why do the plants seem to glow? Is that normal? And what of the trees I can see in the distance; are they all pine, or does something else lie beyond them? How different this is from Narnia, even more so than I was expecting.

"Aunt, I wish you told me a bit more," I murmur into the still air. Seeing this place, seeing what she passed on to me...it makes me miss her so much it carves deep into my chest.

And yet, I fully understand why she wanted me to discover it on my own. Nothing could replace this wonder that comes from seeing Tanssi Kuun for the first time. I can't help myself; I fold my legs underneath me and sink down to the ground, marveling at the spiky grass that snags my dress. Narnian grass is softer, but there's a wildness about this grass that's grayish blue in the moonlight. How everyone might laugh at my gaping at the grass! But 'everyone' isn't here, now are they?

That thought sends the first giggle I've giggled in my life up my throat. No people to worry with here, only beings Aunt assured me were the very pinnacle of good. Well, she did warn me about their lack of humor, but I think I'll be able to live with that quite easily. What am I saying? Of course I can!

Another giggle bursts from my lips, and I clap my hands over my mouth. Giggling seems wrong, somehow. I'm giddy and ecstatic, but I keep feeling the urge to feel that way in a calmer, steadier manner.

I can wonder as I walk, can't I? Yes, yes I can. I've got to find these creatures I'm to protect for the rest of my life. My legs straighten under me, and then I'm on my feet and wading into the grass that gets taller with every step, until it comes to just under my nose. One tickles my face as I pass, and I have to pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the sneeze. Sneezing seems wrong too, especially when I know mine sound more like a cat's than a human's. If I do see any cats here, I'll have no trouble communicating.

My eyes lift to regard the black-as-ink sky, and I truly can't help my gasp of wonder. I've never seen such stars! They're far too bright to hold a candle to Narnia's, and they seem to come in every color imaginable, colors I never even knew existed. I've never seen stars with color before. Reds and golds and greens and blues and purples and oranges and whites and some that look to be some combination of those.

_I see why you loved this place, Aunt._

"Indeed she did, Rosamar."

In Narnia, the strange voice would've had me whirling around with my fist closed in fear. Here, I turn to face it slowly and with a smile on my face. Is this the first of the creatures I'm to meet?

"I'd ask if you knew her, but that might be silly."

The glowing, humanoid shape nods its head, more merrily than I'd have expected. "Come along, Rosamar, we've all been wanting to meet you for such a long time."

I feel more wanted than I've ever felt in my life. How strange, to feel such strong things from a simple sentence. I blink back the water in my eyes and the biggest smile I knew I could produce spreads across my face. "What's your name?"

"There is no need for names here, Rosamar. You'll get used to it in time."

That raises my curiosity. No names? How do they talk to each other? "Aunt never mentioned that."

"Your aunt never mentioned many things, as is the tradition."

"So I could love it more as I discover it myself?"

"Yes, precisely."

I'd stay silent now, but I want to know so much. "Is it always night here?"

"This is night now, yes. When the kuu comes out, that is our day."

"Do the stars stay out then as well?"

"No, the stars are for our night only." The glowing being stops for a moment, but somehow I know the silence is loaded. "Are they very different from the Narnian stars?"

I'm briefly surprised that Aunt didn't explain, but with such a world around me, I might well forget to talk about my homeland too. "Very different, yes. The Narnian stars I've seen are only white, perhaps one or two with a tinge of blue."

"Forgive my questioning, I've always wondered. You must have so many questions of your own."

"No no, it's perfectly alright. We can take turns asking each other things."

It's hard to tell, but I think the being smiles. It waits patiently for me to ask another question, but I need a moment to look at it, really look.

I'd have expected something that floats above the ground to have wings, but it doesn't seem to; it appears to hover all on its own. But the most extraordinary thing about it is how it glows. Not its body, no. It seems to be wrapped in ribbons of warm-colored light that swirl around it in a constant dance. It's hard to tell its facial features, as the light on them keeps changing by the lazy second. It does seem to be a tiny, slender little thing though. If it were to stand on the ground, it couldn't come higher than my shoulder.

"Are you all so tiny?"

"Indeed we are. Most are actually a head shorter than I."

Somehow, I pick up the slight embarrassment. "Well I think you're a wonderful size," I say.

It almost fluffs with pride, but then its shoulders slump.

"No, honestly." I hope my voice doesn't leave room for argument. I've felt trodden on enough in my life; I couldn't stand for any of these creatures to feel as I have much of the time. Wait, why would this being be ashamed of its height? That doesn't belong in Tanssi Kuun, does it?

It stays quiet, flies a little slower. Then its face turns toward mine, and it hovers close to my eyes, searching them for sincerity. I pray it finds it there, even as I wonder why it isn't happy with itself already if Tanssi Kuun is as perfect as Aunt described.

It must see that I meant my words; a smile more luminous than the ribbons of light around it appears on its face. I get the odd feeling it'd hug me if it could, so I open my arms to welcome the gesture. I'm not in the practice of hugging, but the idea doesn't make my nose wrinkle here. It takes the offer within the first millisecond, its enthusiasm putting an even wider smile on my face. I almost gasp at how warm it is in my arms, but I hold it in, just in case it'd be offended. But it's such a wonderful feeling, to hold something so warm. It's welcoming.

Maybe here I'll get in the practice of hugging.

"Thank you," it whispers in my ear, tiny hands accidentally tugging at my hair.

In answer, I hug it a little tighter and let my eyes close in contentment. In my first minutes here, I've found more love than I had in my entire childhood. Aunt was right; this place really is wonderful.

"We ought to get going. They'll be wondering what's taken me so long to bring you," it suddenly says, pulling away faster than I can process.

"Rose."

"I beg pardon?"

"Call me Rose." Only friends call me Rose. I only have friends here.

In answer, it flies a little lower and takes my hand to lead me along. I, who've never appreciated contact, find myself beaming. I've never felt so pleasantly warm and content.

The walk there goes blissfully slow and far too quickly. I want to stop and savor every blade of grass glinting in the starlight, every tree in the forest we enter after a few minutes of walking, every pine needle cluster that flattens under my feet. Things don't crunch here, it seems. What must it be like to actually live here day in and day out? I think I'll have to find out.

"Don't think that just yet, Rose. Things are not so perfect as they seem."

"You can hear my thoughts?"

"We all know each other's hearts here. We have no need to read thoughts." The being slows for half a moment. "Your heart was bright with all the things you don't yet know."

"I suppose I better practice that then," I muse.

"It will come naturally to you, in time."

"Only with you and only here though, yes?"

"Exactly, yes." It looks sideways at me and grins, or seems to.

"I see why your aunt liked you so much, Rose. She chose well."

I almost ask how it knows, but then I remember what it just said. Right. "Are you a he or she?" I blurt out.

"Neither," it answers. Is that a note of sadness in its voice?

I tip my head to the side in curiosity.

"We have no gender, none of us."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be, I promise."

The being pauses again, as if evaluating me. "Perhaps you're right. But at times, I still wonder what it must be like."

My mouth runs away with me. "Full of arbitrary rules. If there's freedom in it, I've yet to find it."

"How fascinating." Its ribbons tremble in their orbits. "We have no pair bonding here, but I've heard of such a thing, from your aunt. Is it not a thing born of gender?"

What in all the realms? 

"No," I muse. "No, I don't think so. I mean, it seems that way sometimes. But I think it's..." I've never had a lover; what do I know of this? And yet, my words won't stop. "When it's right, it's just two souls reaching out for each other."

"I see." Its hand closes a bit tighter around mine, flooding me with a new wave of heat. "It sounds lovely."

I shrug, the weight of inexperience settling over my heart like a cloak. "That's what I've heard."

Words fail me, and it seems to understand this. I swallow once, twice, to moisten my throat. I don't particularly want a lover, or a bonded partner. But thinking of it leaves an echo in me. 

"Your heart is an open one. I think you will not always be alone." 

"I don't mind being alone. Besides, I think this world will keep me far too busy to muse over such things," I murmur.

"Perhaps. But I think you would be wise to consider such a bond if the opportunity ever presented itself to you." A ribbon strays from orbit and brushes against my palm, leaving a streak of heat against my skin. "I think the strength of a bond would only bring you more strength and love, not lessen the stores of your heart."

This I hadn't considered. I don't say anything, but the being seems to understand the confusion riddling me. 

"Let that be your first lesson, then," it replies, far gentler than I'd have expected.

"Lesson?"

"Every protector learns much while here. I wouldn't expect you to be different."

"What were the others like?"

"Many were quiet, just as you are. A few have loved their homeland as much as they love this world, but most are relieved to spend time here."

"Have any lived their entire lives here?"

"Only two."

I don't have to ask to figure out that that wasn't approved of.

"Protecting Tanssi Kuun is not a life, it is only a responsibility gifted. It should not take up the entirety of one's life. Our protectors are meant to split their life here and their life in their home."

"Even if this place is more a home than they've ever had?"

"Yes, even then. Their fellow beings would miss their absence."

I'm about to disagree, but all I have to remember is Lilia and Sima. I know they'd miss me, even just a little. "Lesson number two, I imagine?"

It smiles, and then it laughs a surprisingly husky laugh. "Perhaps, yes."

I smile, my eyes trained on the whirling lights surrounding this seemingly wise and beautiful creature. I almost miss the many more clusters of light ribbons that appear as we leave the grass behind for an open plain ringed by more of the pine-like trees. But I don't, and my breath flies from my lips when I see them all. So many…

My first thought is how they can possibly have no need for names.

"You will learn, Rose, you will learn, in time," the being who guided me whispers, its hand leaving mine. I instantly miss the warmth.

It flies, or rather floats, toward its kin, and I'm left standing there to drown in my awe. How lucky am I, to be charged with protecting such exquisite creatures in such a wondrous place?

"Welcome, Protector," they all chorus. Not chorus in speaking. They sing their welcome, and I have to fight to keep my jaw from hanging open like a door with a broken hinge. Do they sing often? Do they always sing so well?

As if in answer, they begin a song in a language I don't yet know; I only know that it's beautiful and I have to keep blinking salt water from my eyes. I hope no one asks me to describe this, because I know I never could. How could anyone put words to this? It's too much...too much of everything at once.

Once they finish and I take a moment to blink my eyes clear again, they swarm close to me, until I can't see anything but ribbons of light in every color in every direction. So many of them, how can I look after them all?

"You are overwhelmed?" a honey-sweet voice asks in my ear.

I can only bob my head like an idiot. I can't imagine how I'd be otherwise!

"Perhaps…" one begins.

"A dance will calm you?" another continues.

A dance? Dance, with them? Why, of course!

"Come then, Rose. Show us how you dance, and we will show you how we do the same."

I don't have to think before I take an outstretched hand and let them lead me farther into the plain. I'm vaguely grateful for the lack of any sort of vegetation. The grass could get a little prickly, especially for dancing. They clear from around me, and immediately my arms raise, almost of their own accord. I always like to move my arms before the rest of my body. It feels like the natural progression of dance, and no one's ever told me otherwise.

My left arm traces a sweeping arc from above my head to my shoulders, and my right opens from the middle of my chest out to my side. I let my back and torso bend with the movement as it finishes. I almost fluff up with pride when the creatures of light make what seem to be sighs of approval.

My feet take their first few steps, spinning steps that bounce over the earth with all the grace in my body. I pride myself on making no more than a whisper of noise when my feet make contact with the ground. I instilled that in myself from early on. For me, quiet is grace.

As soon as my body warms to my dancing, I begin asking the more difficult things of it. The creatures of light have started up a humming, throbbing sort of song, and at the perfect break, I open both my arms, elbows rounded, and lift my leg in a slow kick that reaches above my head. I've gotten flexible over the years. A demure smile breaks across my lips when a collective sigh goes up among the light creatures. I like to think my dancing pleases them. After all, they please me, very much.

Suddenly, my eye catches something flying my way. On instinct, I shy away from it, but then I see that it's only a ribbon of light. From the smirk on one of the being's faces, it threw it to test me.

Alright then.

I swing myself back around and catch the ribbon with my foot, spinning it through the air and letting it float back down. I raise an arm to the sky and let it fall down my arm, across my shoulders, and down to my other hand. I catch the wisp of a thing with ease and grin as I gently toss it back to its owner.

It may be my imagination, but the creatures' lights seem to brighten. Did that please them? I know it pleased me.

Another ribbon comes flying toward me, this time a pale blue rather than a flashing red. Somehow, I want to treat this one with more care and less showiness. So I catch it in a cradle of my arms and let it wisp around for a bit, watching with fascination as it curls in on itself only to unfurl and stretch out, with a motion surprisingly similar to one of the city cat's morning stretches. On one of its uncurling moments, I open my arms, expecting it to fall. I'm oh so pleasantly surprised when it only hangs there, as if waiting my next move.

I dip into an exaggerated curtsy, remembering to keep my eyes up. Aunt taught me that.

The memory of her puts a bit more finesse into my movements, and I feel my arms not only open, but strain into an extension I rarely attempt. I feel it all the way to the tips of my fingers. My shoulders shake from the effort, but it's very much worth it.

The ribbon folds itself into half and waits. I only realize it's bowing when it straightens and wiggles its way toward me, zigzagging in its flowing path. This is a playful, graceful ribbon.

I release my trembling arms from their pose and soften my body as I stretch out my hand to the pulsing, wriggling ribbon. It tickles the back of my hand for a few moments before sliding down my arm and wrapping around it until it's around my entire forearm. A tail just long enough to be an extension of my hand dangles from my wrist.

Another ribbon, the same color, floats toward my other arm, and I extend my hand, palm up, to welcome it. It too winds around my forearm and leaves a tail. I now have ribbons to dance with.

So I do. I leap and glide and twirl on the tips of my toes. I've never felt so free. My dancing ribbons stay with me the entire way, even lengthening when I stretch out the arm it's on. More ribbons come my way, and I dance with each of them, sometimes more than one at a time, before I send them back to their owners. Some return for a second, a third, a fourth dance, and I'm only too happy to oblige.

This continues for what might be the better part of an hour, but to me it seems like minutes only. How did they know exactly how to welcome me? Did Aunt tell them all about me? The dance winds down, and by their nods, yes, Aunt told them much about me. I grin.

"The best welcome I've ever had," I whisper, surprised at my lack of breath.

The creatures float forward to encircle me again, embracing me in a mass sort of hug. Their ribbons tickle my cheeks.

"So what am I to do, exactly? Aunt only told me to protect, never how to go about it."

"Most things are well now, Rose. You needn't worry just yet."

Somehow, I catch the undercurrent there. Yet? "So there is something the matter?"

"Train yourself first, and then we will explain."

I have to bite my lip to keep a sudden complaint from escaping. Am I a child, for secrets to be kept from me? How can I protect them if they won't let me?

"Patience," one of them chides.

I duck my head so they won't see the uncharacteristic defiance sparking in my eyes. I'm not sure where it's coming from, but I have the good sense to be ashamed of it. What would Aunt think of me? Oh she'd just be so proud. My head hangs a little further in shame.

If the creatures notice, they don't say anything.

Where is the one who welcomed me? He, she, it seemed to understand me. We connected.

As if on cue, it comes forward.

"Perhaps it's time you returned home for a bit. You've learned much in a very short time."

I almost protest, but I bite any words on my tongue back. It's not my place to disagree, is it? After all, I'm the new one here. I'm the stranger to this land.

So I nod my ducked head and let it lead me away from the plain and into the tall, prickly grass.

That was nothing like I was expecting. I just can't decide if that's good or bad.


	9. A King's Visit

**(Caspian POV)**

Caspian had quite forgotten about the girl he'd almost run over until he saw her at the faire. Well, more like bumped into her by accident. He'd been surprised, pleasantly so, when she wound up as his partner in one of the group dances. He wasn't sure why he'd held onto her for more than his turn. But perhaps, after remembering she was the girl who wasn't afraid at Beruna, it made a bit more sense.

Caspian hadn't gone to his Professor after all, only because he was sure he knew to stay away and mind his kingly duties. He didn't have the time to go chasing after a girl, even one so different as Rosamar. He'd only held on to her during the dance because he was curious, intrigued even. Yes, that was it.

Still, in spite of that, Caspian can't help but perk up with interest when a slip of paper falls out of the mountainous stack at his desk – a slip of paper that mentions a quiet girl with black hair and a habit for sneaking around. Somehow, he knows it's Rosamar.

Wait one moment…sneaking around? That bit doesn't sound like her, though Caspian knows he can't profess to know her very well at all. But she doesn't seem the sneaking type. She wasn't the dangerous type either.

_Neither was your aunt Prunaprismia, yet she shot you in the arm_ , his mind whispers. The thought surprises him, but he can't deny its truth. He'd learned the hard way that people become quite different under pressure.

So he lets out a sigh and studies the note scrawled on a scrap piece of paper a bit closer.

> _To His Royal Majesty, Caspian X, King of Narnia and Telmar:_
> 
> _Your Majesty, I would not bother you lest I had good reason. I know you are very busy, and it is only out of the most sincere concern for Your Majesty's safety and well-being that I bring forward such a seemingly small concern to your attention. I hope you will forgive any breach of conduct or lack of manners on my part._
> 
> _There is a young woman, new to the city, whom I think Your Majesty might wish to place a spy upon. You see, Your Most Gracious Majesty, she often sneaks off in the middle of the night, and sometimes even in the day. I have tried to follow her at times, but she is very careful to slip out of my grasp, almost as if she knows I am following closely. I only know that she disappears off somewhere in the woods, and I am sorry to say I know not where. Believe me, my king, I would if I could._
> 
> _She also keeps a dagger on her at all times; rather, all the times I have seen her, it is there on her hip. I cannot help but find this odd, as the city is safe and the custom of carrying a weapon is not one found here, nor is it a custom I am aware of anywhere else in Narnia. Perhaps she was encouraged to do this at her hometown of Beruna, but I have heard no mention of such a thing. Even so, she did not carry a weapon for her first year here. I find it suspicious, Your Majesty._
> 
> _I feel I must give you as much information on this young woman as I can if you deem anything must be done. Here is all I know:_
> 
> _She is a recent inhabitant, and I believe she moved to the city on the very day of your coronation. I confess I do not think so lightly of this either. She is a young woman of no more than twenty years, perhaps a year or so fewer. Her hair is long, thick, and black. She is of an average build, neither notably slender nor notably heavy, and of an average height as well. Her face is rather unextraordinary as well, its features plain and understated. Her eyes are a dark brown, her cheeks well enough defined, and her chin a pleasant enough shape. One could not easily pick her from a crowd. Her one defining feature is her lightness of step. Perhaps she loves to dance, perhaps she is naturally quick and quiet on her feet, or perhaps she trained herself that way. In any case, you will find few who slip easier through the shadows and the streets, and even fewer who do it with such grace. If her behaviors did not concern me so, I would no doubt admire her skill with her feet. Her hands too are graceful and quick, though not skilled in weaponry, I think. They do not have the callouses I would expect from a skilled swordsman (or woman). However, I do know she is a carder at the wool workshop in the west wing of the city. It's very easy to find, should Your Majesty find need to send someone there. Look only for the brightly colored florist shop two doors down the street._
> 
> _I pray I have been some use to Your Majesty, and that this issue be not as serious as I have begun to fear it is. I do not mean to assume, but it almost seems as if she is meeting someone, or many someones, in the woods at night. This gives me concern, especially with Your Majesty's reign still so young._
> 
> _With all due respect and love to Your Majesty,_
> 
> _A concerned citizen of the city_

Well, what in the name of the Lion is he to think of that? Caspian reads and rereads and rerereads the paper until his eyes start to cross, and still he doesn't want to believe it. No, Rosamar had always seemed very sweet, reserved and guarded, but kind and good nonetheless. But then, Caspian really couldn't claim to know her very well. She could have everyone fooled. But her face seemed so honest…

No, best to reserve his opinion until he has proof of things being one way or the other. Perhaps he'd better consult his Professor on this. Yes, Professor Cornelius always gives good advice.

With that, Caspian rises from his admittedly comfortable chair at his admittedly cluttered desk and makes his way to the Professor's study. The door is cracked open, but Caspian knocks anyway. The Professor's hearing is starting to fray because of his age, and on more than one occasion Caspian's negligence to knock has given the old scholar half of a heart attack.

"Professor?" he calls, rapping his knuckles a few steady times on the thick wood.

"Yes, my king, do come in," the kindly old half-dwarf replies from somewhere within.

Caspian remembers that the Professor used to call him 'my prince.' He misses those days, in an odd little way. He was under his uncle's control to more of an extent than he cares to remember, but he was ignorant of many things that now serve to torment him whenever he's alone with his thoughts. Things had been a good deal simpler back then. Yes, he misses those secret, thrilling escapades the Professor took him from his bed at the most unearthly hours of the night and morning to the astronomy tower and taught him to chart the stars while telling him the old tales of Narnia.

"What are you working on, Professor?" Caspian asks, both out of politeness and because he's always interested in what his childhood professor is up to.

"For once, my boy, I've taken it upon myself to organize this library of mine. It truly needs the attention, don't you think?"

Caspian takes a few cursory glances around the study, a slight grin quirking his mouth at the many stacks of loose papers, piles of half-rolled scrolls, and highly unstable towers of books that fill the small study.

"As much as this state lends your study a well-loved atmosphere, I do think a bit of organization could do some good," he answers, still smiling a slightly-crooked smile.

"I couldn't agree more," the Professor replies. At least, that's what Caspian thinks he says; at the moment, his professor is buried behind a dangerously leaning stack of books, and his words come out a bit muffled.

"Now, what brings you here at such an odd hour, my king?"

That is very like Professor Cornelius; he seems to have a sixth sense regarding Caspian's need for advice.

"It's a bit of a story. If it would be best I wait until another time-"

"Nonsense, my boy! Only come and give me a helping hand with these scrolls, and then we'll sit and hear this story of yours."

Caspian's beside the Professor and accepting an armful of scrolls within the half-minute. "Why the sudden need to clean, Professor?"

"When an avalanche of precious books falls on you, you may well get the same notion."

Caspian laughs shortly and continues hauling scrolls and books and papers at the professor's direction. After a good quarter hour of this, there seems to be a lull.

"Alright, my king, let's hear your tale."

Caspian carefully lays down his current load of rather hefty tomes and gratefully - and very unregally – plops down into the armchair beside his Professor's.

"Do you remember what I told you of the Battle of Beruna?"

"Quite well, yes."

"Did I ever mention the girl I noticed, peeking out from behind the tree?"

At this, Professor Cornelius straightens in his chair and folds his wrinkled hands over his belly.

"I suppose I did not. In any case, I only noticed her after Reep got his tail back. I'd not have thought anything of it, but for her lack of fear. It was a strange thing to see, a young Telmarine girl unafraid, especially of Aslan."

"Strange indeed…" Professor murmurs in agreement.

"I saw her again when we paraded through the city. Once more, I gave it nothing but a passing thought. Up until a few days ago, I'd forgotten completely about her."

The Professor waits patiently for the king to explain. It is his way.

"That is, until I almost ran her over in the street. It was the day Glenstorm bought me a few hours to myself. I tore through the streets on Destrier, and I'm afraid I gave her quite the fright. She was all respect and deference, though she seemed to have a bit of a…I don't wish to say retort, as it had no mean spirit to it. In any case, I recognized her for a reason I couldn't identify. I remembered her eyes were the ones I saw peeking from behind the tree at Beruna once I'd left her, and I resolved to not go after her to inquire after her manner. It seemed rude, and far from something I had the time for. So I put it from my mind."

"That does seem to be a pattern." The lines of amusement around Professor Cornelius's eyes prompt a slightly sheepish shrug of Caspian's shoulders before he continues.

"I ran into her again at the faire, not two days ago. Something possessed me to keep her as a partner in the dance we bumbled into each other in, though we were not supposed to do so. I confess I did ask her about Beruna, and she only answered that her aunt told her stories, so perhaps that was why she was not frightened by the sight of a lion and a river god."

"And what seems to be the issue then, my king?" Professor Cornelius's eyes are twinkling now, and Caspian outright refuses to acknowledge precisely why that might be.

"I received a handwritten note warning me of a young woman with plain features and a natural grace sneaking off somewhere into the woods in the middle of the night and carrying a weapon everywhere with her. I know it refers to Rosamar; she has grace like no other. The writer fears she is up to something less than savory, only I am not inclined to think so. But how well do I know her, to make that judgment? I am at an impasse, Professor," Caspian finishes, running his palm down his face, the beginnings of his beard rough against his fingers.

"Well now, that is quite a story. The simple answer, my king, is of course to attempt to get to know this young woman better. However, if you suspect her motives to be less than safe to you, I would not suggest it. Your reign is young yet, my king, and not all dissent is worked through yet."

"The writer of the note said as much."

"Very curious, how they managed to get this note into your personal stack of papers…"

Caspian's brow furrows. That didn't occur to him before, and he knows it should have. "Perhaps they have a friend here at the castle? A servant, perhaps?"

"As long as they are a friend to you, I should imagine it to be alright. But do we know that for certain, any more than we know of Rosamar's loyalty?"

"We cannot, I suppose."

"No, we cannot," the Professor agrees, settling further into his chair and shifting his hands farther up on his rather round belly.

"So which to trust, Professor?"

"I think I would like to hear your ideas."

Caspian tips his head, but obliges. "I'd like to attempt to get to know Rosamar."

"For more reasons than one, I suspect." There goes that twinkle in his eye again.

"Perhaps," Caspian answers, as dismissively as possible.

"Of course, you are free to do as you will. Though I would advise you to take caution in whatever you do."

"What do you think I should do, Professor?"

"I would have you set someone to watch this Rosamar. But if what you've told me of her is true, then you should be in little danger."

"We'd better hope she has not yet learned to wield her dagger with much skill," Caspian says with a smirk.

"Indeed." Professor Cornelius's eyes are glinting yet again, and Caspian once more refuses to understand the meaning other than amusement.

But when he rides into the city to find Rosamar's home and pay her a visit, he himself has trouble keeping the Professor's suspicions from creeping into his own mind.

_I have no time for infatuations,_ the king reminds himself firmly as he rides up to the workshop closest to where he almost ran poor Rosamar into the cobblestones.

He dons his distantly polite face, the one he often employs when dealing with ambassadors and officials, and knocks on the door to the wool shop. There are the bright flowers two doors down, just as the note said. It's an hour or so past sunup, and it seems as though work has just begun for the day.

"-After all, who in their right mind would come knocking during work hou-" The door swings open with an indignant squeak, and Caspian suddenly finds himself nearly nose-to-nose with a very intimidating woman. She might be gentile in her middle age, if her forehead weren't pressed into firm lines of annoyance and her mouth wasn't pinched into a scowl.

"Now, what- Oh! Your Majesty!" Instantly, the annoyance flees, quickly replaced by surprised politeness. The woman sinks into a humble, if somewhat curt, curtsy and takes a step back so as not to be nose-to-nose with the king on her doorstep.

"I beg your pardon for any intrusion, madam-" he begins, only to be cut off by a firm shake of the still-intimidating matron's head.

"No no, quite alright! Don't trouble yourself, Majesty. What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for a young woman by the name of Rosamar. Does she take residence here?"

"She has a place around back, yes. Is everything alright?"

"Yes indeed, I only wished to speak with her. Is she not in?"

"I'm afraid not, sire. She's run off Lion only knows where. Though I must say, she usually saves her disappearing acts for nighttime, or so Lilia tells me," the woman babbles.

"She does this often?"

"Well this is the first day she's late for work."

"I apologize, I've been horribly rude. I never inquired as to your name, madam." Caspian suddenly remembers his manners in a flurry of etiquette.

"Oh no, the fault is mine. I am Sima, Majesty. You may drop the madam from your tongue."

Caspian has to hold in a shocked laugh at how easily yet gruffly she addresses him. It's certainly refreshing. He might have to make a point to visit often. "My apologies then, Sima," he manages, free of laughter only by a gift of the Lion.

"None needed, Majesty. I am sorry you've missed her."

"Wait, Sima, is that…?"

"Yes, child, it is the king of Narnia, come to this very doorstep," Sima calls back into the shop. "Oh yes, my manners! Do come in, sire."

If he were not the king, Caspian feels Sima might have shooed him in with a few swats of her hand on his backside. This could well be the reason for the smile consistently present on his face as he obediently steps inside and takes a seat on a free stool Sima indicates to him.

"No couches here, I'm afraid," she says with more humor than true regret.

"It's perfectly alright." Again, Caspian fights the mirth in his voice. He wouldn't want to offend Sima, but by the Lion, she amuses him. What an unusual sort of person, to act as sarcastic as this to the king! He instantly decides he rather likes her.

"Oh lord Sima, why does Rose pick this day to be late?!" a young woman whose name Caspian doesn't yet know exclaims with her hands in the air, spinning wheel temporarily abandoned.

"You'd be wise to thank her, else his Majesty may have never had cause to set foot inside."

Caspian can't help his bemused smile, though he manages to confine it to the corners of his mouth.

"Oh! I'm Lilia, Your Majesty," the young woman says, turning to curtsy rather abruptly after standing so casually to address Sima.

"A pleasure," Caspian replies politely. "I would give you my name as well, but I fear that might be redundant."

Both Lilia and Sima chuckle, and Caspian feels even more at ease than before. If there were any ice, it is long broken.

The visit lasts no more than a half hour, but Caspian finds himself in quite a good mood at the end of it. Sima once more apologizes for having nothing but a stool for him to sit on, though with more dryness than before. She must have noticed him discreetly working the kinks from his legs. Caspian just grins and assures her he didn't mind one bit. Because, in fact, he didn't.

Both the women express regret that Rosamar didn't show while he was visiting, but Caspian good-naturedly dismisses their concern and says he'll simply have to come again and hope she reappears. Though he can't be too sad with how the visit with only the two of them turned out. Rosamar is lucky, to work with two women such as Lilia and Sima.

When he steps outside again, the door closing behind him with a carefree bang, Caspian lets his amusement bring a huge smile to his face. It makes his cheeks hurt a bit. They're not used to being stretched so much. Caspian doesn't smile big smiles very often.

Even though he didn't find Rosamar, he's looking forward to visiting again.


	10. Training Begins

**(Rose POV)**

"Rose? Are you well?" A sudden, loud banging jolts me from my comatose-like sleep and sends me tumbling to the floor rather gracelessly.

_Some dancer I am today._

"Yes, why?" I grumble out.

"You are only three hours late to work. Sima's been having fits."

I take only half a second to process this before spouting the first curse I've ever spouted in my life. "Damn! I'm coming!"

"Yes, I can hear that," Lilia answers through the door, presumably at the loud scuffling and crashing noises I'm making.

Inside a minute, I tumble outside, still tugging on my right stocking and shoving my left foot into its shoe.

"Why Rose, you look so put together! How do you do it?"

"Quiet Lilia, lest I bring up that boy you brought home a few nights ago."

Instantly, her face reddens. "He never came inside, Rose!"

"And yet you blush," I answer with a knowing smirk as I sprint toward the workshop.

"That aside, I've something I've been meaning to ask you. What was it? Oh yes…"

I wait impatiently, unsure and yet wary.

"Where do you keep going, Rose? In the middle of the night, never coming back until it's morning. And today, you only got back after dawn! Yes, I noticed. What on earth are you up to?"

"I just enjoy walking at night, that's all," I try to say. But by Lilia's face, she's not convinced. So I add in another grain of truth. "Alright, alright, but don't say I didn't warn you. It's a bit silly."

Lilia just waits patiently with one eyebrow raised at me.

"You know I love to dance?"

"Only because you just now told me."

"Well, when I was a little girl my aunt used to take me out to the woods and dance with me all night long. It got to be a habit with me, and I've picked it up again since I've been here."

"Well, that is a bit odd, but it's also a relief. I was a mite worried, as you carry that dagger around with you all the time."

"I thought it a good idea, just in case I run into anything out of sorts in the woods. I'm still not entirely familiar with them."

"Then I applaud your foresight," Lilia answers simply as she turns and leads the way to the workshop. For a moment, I wonder if I've convinced her well enough, but her posture is relaxed, so I seem to have performed passably well.

"Oh, and the king stopped by today asking to see you."

"Is that so?" I ask off-handedly. Wait… "Hold on, the king?! As in the King of Narnia, king? King Caspian X?"

"Can you think of another king off the top of your head?"

For a few moments, my mouth can only hang open like a fish's. "Well…er…what did he want?"

"He wouldn't say, he just wanted to see you."

My throat suddenly runs dry. Have I done something wrong? I scan through every action that could possibly have been taken the wrong way. I know my dancing at the faire was perfectly modest, I don't cause trouble, I stay out of people's way. I've done nothing, nothing that I know of. I'm very careful to go unnoticed at night. No one's ever suspected a thing, and even if they did, what harm is there in a few trips to the woods?

"That's…good?"

"You'd best find out, hm?"

For a moment, I almost choke on my fear, but then I see the smirk on Lilia's face. Instantly, I relax. "Yes, I suppose so."

Lilia shakes her head for some reason and ushers me toward the wool shop. "Come on then, let's not keep Sima waiting any longer."

Luckily for me, Sima's somehow in a sparkling mood, in spite of what Lilia said about her fits over my absence. "Well child, I believe we owe you thanks!" she booms as soon as the tip of my foot steps inside the doorway.

"Were you so tickled to have the king of Narnia in your humble shop?" I tease.

"As a matter of fact, Rose, I was indeed! Who couldn't be proud of a royal behind sitting on a the self-same stool one sits on day in and day out?"

Where in the name of the Lion is this coming from? I'd never have suspected Sima to get excited over royalty, no matter its proximity.

"And of all the things to be tickled about, you chose the king's choice of seat?"

"Quiet, Lilia, and back to work!"

I reign in my snort and scuttle over to my work as well. "Well you were right about one thing, Sima," I say as I take my seat on my well-loved stool.

She quirks an eyebrow.

"I have grown some impressive shoulders."

She just shakes her head at me and smiles fondly – well, fondly in a loose sense of the word. Perhaps patronizingly is a better word.

We buckle down for the day, but the entire time I card my wool I can't stop thinking about the light creatures of Tanssi Kuun. They're quite different than I was expecting – more serious, and even strange. Well, I suppose I'm in no position to call them strange because it's their land and I'm the stranger. They're very quiet. This agrees with my own quiet temperament well, but it still isn't what I expected. But Aunt was right, it's a gem of a world, and I'm honored to protect it. And then I remember.

I haven't the faintest idea _how_.

Frantically, my mind sifts through possibilities. _Perhaps the king will teach you, when he next calls._

The idea is so absurd I almost snort. I contain myself, but Lilia shoots me a questioning sideways glance anyway. I shrug it off.

 _Or Darin could teach you. He makes weapons; why wouldn't he know how to use them?_ Now I can live with that idea. I'll stop by first thing after I finish the carding for today.

And luckily for me, the day does fly by rather quickly. I practically jump off my stool and almost spill the wool in my haste to get myself to Darin's. He seemed to like me well enough, so the gamble is good that he'll consent to teach me what he knows. Even if he only knows very little, it'll be something. I can barely wield a kitchen knife well enough to chop vegetables for stew!

"Slow down, child, lest you spill everything!"

"Sorry Sima!" I call as I toss the bag of wool at her and bolt out the door. I don't know when Darin stops work for the day, and since I have no idea where he lives, naturally, I can only hope to catch him before he retires for the day. Almost everyone stops at sundown, so I'd best hurry.

And hurry I do. I shy away from several sour looks as my shoes pitter patter down the street a bit faster than is safe. I almost run into several people, and I think I trample a fallen tomato at some point. I call an apology over my shoulder, but the only answer is a curled lip and a less-than-friendly scowl. I shrug it off because it's more important that I catch Darin than cry over a squashed vegetable.

And I'm in luck! Darin's workshop door is still open. A wall of heat blasts in my face as I skid to a stop at his doorstep. He's pounding away on a frighteningly long thing that looks to be the beginnings of a sword, so he doesn't hear me.

I clear my throat, a bit timidly. After all, what if he finds my request odd? And then there's the whole bit about me owing him enough as it is…right then and there I decide to sneak a few coins into his pocket or something to pay for my exquisite dagger. That I still don't know how to use. I square my shoulders and clear my throat a little louder.

Of course, he still doesn't hear me.

I resist the urge to look up at the ceiling in exasperation and instead open my mouth to call to him. It's not my habit, nor is it comfortable for me to do, but it seems necessary. I don't intend to wait here all night. "Good evening," I call politely.

Instantly, his hammering stops and he turns to face me. "Rosamar! I wasn't expecting you."

"Neither was I."

He laughs, and I can't help but smile too. His laugh is contagious, rumbling from some place deep in his chest and spilling out temptingly into the air. "Well, Rosamar, what brings you here this fine evening?"

Now that I have to say why I've come, it seems so absurd. Surely I can make up some excuse –

The light creatures of Tanssi Kuun enter my mind. I gather my courage and spit it out. "Do you know how to wield a sword? Er, a dagger?"

A corner of his mouth tugs a bit higher toward his ear as he regards me. "Why would you need to know a thing like that?"

"For the same reason I needed this dagger in the first place."

"And what might that reason be?"

"I fail to see why I must tell you."

_Where in the name of the heavens did that sass come from? Very smart, Rose, to be sassy with your hopeful teacher. Very smart indeed._

But there's no trace of anger or indigence in Darin's face; rather, his eyes seem to twinkle with amusement. "Very well. When do you wish to start?"

I blink a few times and look him over carefully. Why did he agree so quickly? Suspicion instantly colors my thoughts. "As soon as may be," I answer as casually as I can. Better to not let him see my suspicion. "How much?"

Now it seems it's his turn to look surprised. "There's no need for that," he answers with a wave of his hand.

That was the wrong thing to say. Once again I say, do I not look perfectly capable of paying him? Surely I don't look so like a beggar or a pauper!"You waived the price of the dagger; do not think to waive this as well," I finally say. I pride myself on hiding my anger well enough. Or so I think.

My eyebrows jump just the slightest bit when he takes a visible step back, face the picture of shock. "I meant no offense, Rose, I swear."

"How did you know I took it?" That slips out before I can stop it, and I instantly wish I could throw the words back in my mouth.

"You can be easier to read than you think," he answers with a reconciliatory smirk, if there is indeed such a thing.

"When can we start?"

I've no desire to discuss how easy he finds it to 'read' me.

"Within the quarter hour, if you wish."

"So soon?"

"Better to start sooner than late, don't you think?"

Can he see my urgency too, or is he only guessing or is he trying to be charming? I can't tell. I hate that. "Then finish your sword there, and I'll wait."

"You have no desire to learn blacksmithing as well?"

"No." In spite of my firm answer, the corners of my mouth lift ever so slightly. Hopefully, Darin doesn't notice that. He's noticed enough about me as it is.

He just laughs and resumes his hammering. And I? Well, I stand there and wait, patient as you please. I'm not to return to Tanssi Kuun until after nightfall anyhow, and I've nowhere else to be.

"Did any good come of the engraving we found the other night?" he calls over his deafening pounding of metal.

"Yes, much."

I'm expecting him to ask something else, to try and get the details, but either he refrains or he has no interest. Something tells me it's the former, but I don't press him. He's extending that courtesy to me, after all. I can't owe him any more than I already do. What I guess to be a quarter hour passes slower than I thought it would, but it gives me the perfect opportunity to study him, learn about him.

His arms are as I'd expect a blacksmith's to be: well-formed and well-muscled, bulky in their build. Well, perhaps not bulky. His build is toward the leaner side, but even I can't dismiss his shoulders. They're as well-built as any I've ever seen, perhaps even better so. I quickly shift my gaze.

His back is rounded as he leans ever so slightly toward his project, as if he's fascinated by the hammer connecting with the red-hot steel. He seems to enjoy his work; there are no lines of tension anywhere in his body, not that I can see. His shoulders are taught with effort when he raises the hammer, but they have an ease about them, even when they're straining. The idea of loving one's work keeps my gaze on him. I card my wool faithfully, but I would never say I outright enjoy it. My gaze wants to continue surveying him, but I'm afraid to look on any more. I'm not a blusher, and yet I can only blame so much on the heat of the smithing fire. I grind my teeth and look anywhere but Darin.

Then I've an idea. I turn my gaze back and try to pick out one thing that doesn't agree with me. Yet the instant I decide on that, guilt swarms in my gut. That's not like me. I don't look for faults in people. I look away again, this time in shame. What's the matter with me? It's not his fault if I'm drawn to him, however slightly. I'll admit no more, not when my pride and reservations keep screaming at me to regain control of myself.

Where is the strong young woman who left Beruna? Where is the Rose Aunt saw?

I scoff silently at myself and straighten my shoulders. Enough of this foolishness; I've a duty to Tanssi Kuun, and I'm here trying to fulfill it. Nothing more. I'm not here to admire or to ponder or to do anything but learn to wield the dagger at my hip. Once I learn that, then perhaps I can move to swords, or throwing knives, or something of the like. I really must learn more about weaponry in general. I'm Tanssi Kuun's protector, for the Lion's sake!

Only when Darin clears his throat quietly do I jolt from my reverie.

"Are you finished?"

"I am. And are you ready to learn?"

I lift my chin a touch higher and square my shoulders as subtly as shoulders can be squared. "Yes."

Darin nods once, clearly having expected this from me, and grabs a dagger similar in size to mine from a shelf. "Then follow me."

"We don't learn in here?"

"No, it's much too small and cramped. We'll go just outside the city, if that's alright."

I suppose he knows better, in this instance. "Lead the way then, Darin."

"If you'll be content to follow."

I hate that the sparkle in his eye makes my stomach jump.

I simply raise one eyebrow and motion for him to go on. With a smirk, he obliges. Our bodies pass closer together than I might like when he reaches behind me to close the door. His gaze locks with mine for just a moment before he starts off. I blink twice to erase the moment from my mind and scuttle after him.

* * *

"I promise, Rose, you will get better in time."

Darin's words and my own loyalty to Tanssi Kuun are the only things keeping me from throwing my dagger in the river. It'd be quite a throw, but I'm more than sure I could make it at the moment.

"That is much easier to say than to hear," I grind out past gritted teeth. My attitude won't help me any faster, but stamping it down isn't so simple as I'd like. Still, I have to keep trying. I'll learn this, if for no other reason than to spite the voice in my head telling me I can't.

I raise my blade again, even as my arms tremble in protest.

"That's the spirit," Darin praises.

I gesticulate my thank you and jerk my head to let him know I'm ready to continue. I may be frustrated, but maybe I can use that to my advantage, somehow.

"Your stance, Rose," he corrects, far more gently than I'd have corrected myself.

"Remind me how it goes again?" My feet are much better at dancing than at making sword fighting stances, that's for sure.

"Think of it like a dance."

This is nothing like any dance I'm used to.

I bite back the thought and try to relate the two. Alright, foot placement can be important in dance. But I've never had to think about it; it always came so naturally to me, like breathing. I suppose it's time I started paying attention to details like that. If Darin's right, they may help. So I try. I focus on every feeling, every surface of my body I can connect to.

"Much better."

I sigh out my satisfaction and commit this position to muscle memory. "Any suggestions?"

"Widen your feet just a little."

I do so, and he nods his approval.

"And keep your elbows closer to your body."

I do this as well, and I receive another nod.

"Now, keep your dagger up and watch me."

Next thing I know, Darin's dagger is flashing towards me, and I start to shy away. But I remember my stance, and I trust that Darin knows what he's doing. I hold my stance, keep my blade up, and I'm rewarded with the clang of metal meeting metal.

"You may open your eyes now. And I might not recommend shutting them, in future." The smile in Darin's voice coaxes my eyes open.

"Thank you."

He shakes his head.

"No thanks yet. We've only just begun."

My eyes flash over to his face.

He's willing to do this with me on a regular basis? Darin just smiles, almost as if he can guess my thoughts.

"Thank you," I blurt out. This time though, I don't want to eat my words.

A tip of his head suffices for a 'you're welcome', and luckily for my composure he wastes no time in returning to the lesson. I admire his patience; in his position, even my reserves would be tested. I'm such a beginner, and it's already been a solid hour or two.

"Remember your stance," he corrects for possibly the twentieth time.

I fight off a grumble and do as he says. I'm expecting him to attack me again, but he just stands there.

Long, painful minutes pass, and my muscles begin to shake with complaint.

After a while, I make a small sound of impatience, to which Darin replies, "Muscle memory will serve you well in future. Don't worry, you've only a few minutes more before I release you."

The explanation placates me, but my arms still shake with effort. Dancing was never so hard as this. "You use different muscles for wielding a blade."

Did I say that last part out loud? Wonderful, now I have no control over my mouth.

I firmly press my lips closed to keep anything else from slipping out without my consent and endure the next few minutes in silence. I asked for this, I know, but at the moment, the idea of pushing Darin into the nearest pond certainly has its appeal. Even the polite and reserved part of me snickers a little at the mean thought. In my defense, I can't imagine many people would take very kindly to anyone telling them to stand in this uncomfortable position either.

At last, at long long last, Darin gives me the nod that I can relax. I fight back a sudden, inexplicable urge to kiss his feet.

"At last!"

There goes my runaway mouth again, always at the worst of times. It's not been this bad before. My mouth seems to have a habit of running away with me when I'm with Darin. I resist an urge to blame him. It's not his fault if I can't seem to button my lip.

"I promise, you will thank me someday."

"As long as that day need not be today, I can live with that."

One of his now-trademark smirks comes as my answer. Without further ado, he continues to teach me the very simplest of the basics. Yet my stance continues to suffer. I just don't know what to do with my feet. Suddenly, he stops. I tip my head to look at him with my question written on my face, this time of my own will.

"I think that's enough swordplay for today."

I let my head hang, because I know my failure to fix my footwork is holding us – or rather, me – back.

Darin surprises me when he holds out his hand.

I stare at a bit stupidly. This isn't part of swordplay, is it? Some other kind of combat training?

"Perhaps dancing will remind you of how to move your feet."

I can't stop the smile from breaking out on my face. Taking his hand comes without thought. I'm too eager to dance to even think about inhibitions or anything of the sort. A laugh escapes my control too when Darin gives me a quick spin.

"Remember, pay attention to your feet."

I try and do as he says, but it feels so good to dance that I almost forget.

"Concentrate, Rose," he whispers right next to my ear. I curse the goosebumps that pop up on my arms and bless my sleeves for covering them.

"You make it no easier," I grumble. Instantly, I wish I could take the words back. Even I don't know what they're supposed to mean.

Darin probably doesn't mean to laugh, but since he's dancing with me, I hear the small huff of air.

"Happy to be of amusement."

"I beg your pardon-"

"You may not have it."

I feel, rather than see, him start and pause. He leans forward over my shoulder, and I quickly spin away. I don't like proximity, not that close. But I catch a glimpse of his face as I do, and I'm surprised to see genuine concern there. Darin looks remarkably like a kicked puppy, even if he's attempting to hide it by scratching the back of his neck and looking away from me.

I wait a few moments before gracing him with a smile – a joking smile, so he knows I was only teasing.

Our gazes lock for a moment, like they did when he closed the shop door. And like before, I'm the first to break it. "Alright, I'll concentrate."

And I do, by the heavens I do. I concentrate as I've never concentrated before. When my mind whispers that I'm just afraid of looking at Darin, I hush it and focus a bit harder.

If Darin notices my inner dialogue, or rather the lack thereof, he says nothing. He, who often reads me far more accurately than I'd like. How does he know me so well, or at least seem to? We've only just met; where does his understanding of me come from?

Those are questions I suddenly realize I'm entirely unwilling to answer. I'm here to learn, not to flirt and go weak at the knees. Not that I'm currently doing either. I'm not a romantic, and I have no intention of ever becoming one; I have much more important things to worry with.

Take my footwork, for instance.

So I start to really take stock of my own body. Hoping Darin isn't watching me too closely, I stand on my tiptoes and twirl, noting how my weight shifts from the ball of one foot to the other, and how my toes curl to grip the ground through my soft-soled shoes. I feel how my ribcage has to stay open and tall, so I don't topple. My arms naturally open and close, and I take stock of that too. Even how my fingers naturally fall – the thumb and middle finger slightly more toward my palm than my other fingers. I remember I'm supposed to focus on my feet. I work my way up from the tips of my toes to my heels and to my legs. My thighs tense and untense as my weight shifts. Perhaps there's a similar motion in my swordfighting stance? Yes, I think I remember that.

I stop dancing, with no little disappointment, and take stock of myself, my natural way of standing. My weight tends to rest over the balls of my feet, away from my heels. Very often dancers stand like this – forward with their weight. So this isn't uncommon. Yet I think I may have to make an effort to rock more into my heels, let them support more of my weight. It might steady me, when I'm wielding a blade.

I draw my dagger and Darin draws his. He seems to understand that I'm ready to try again. This time, I copy one of his lunges. When I let my whole foot support me, rather than just my toes, I don't feel perfectly at ease but I feel much better than before. From Darin's grin, I did something right. He lunges back once I've recovered, and I block. This time, I keep my balance, let my back foot absorb more of the impact. I stay on my feet, and Darin doesn't have to pull back to keep his blade from colliding with my skin.

"Better?" I ask, chancing a small and hopeful grin.

"A good deal better, yes. Much to learn still, but you can keep your footing now. That's a good start."

I have to try very hard to keep from fluffing up with pride. "So it's really just a dance? A strange one, but a dance nonetheless?"

"I suppose it is. I never thought of it that way, not until you needed me to."

Somehow, that makes me smile a bit broader.

We stand in silence for a moment before I look away. Is that going to be a regular thing now? It's happened three times today alone. What on earth?

"I suppose we ought to be getting back," Darin says, finally breaking the slightly uncomfortable quiet.

"Yes, we should. The sun's long set now." Of course, I'll be coming right back out here in the middle of the night, but Darin doesn't need to know that.

The walk back passes with surprising ease. Darin even walks with me back to my home, or to the door at least. I make sure to thank him for the courtesy, especially now that it's quite dark.

"You're welcome. Shall we continue tomorrow, at the same time?"

"I'd like that, yes. Thank you, again."

"It's nothing," he says with a shrug.

"Not to me."

Where did that even come from?

"Until tomorrow," he says, jolting me from my thoughts.

For the briefest of moments, our hands brush, and I suspect not entirely by accident. His fingers briefly close around mine, and then he's turning away and I'm on my own at my door, staring in confusion at his retreating back.


	11. A Friend of the Protector

**(Rose POV)**

That night, I go through my usual ritual of sneaking out of the city. I take in a deep breath of the crisp night air as I slip along towards the trees. A quick check at my side assures me my small dagger is safely in its place. Smiling slightly to myself, I pick up my pace a little more.

As I hustle along, I consider the Narnian night sky. The moon here looks dull and pasty compared to the multicolored stars of Tanssi Kuun. I suspect that the more time I spend in that secret patch of barely-flawed paradise, the less Narnia will appeal to me. Oh it has its good points too, but it's just not where my heart is.

A sudden sound somewhere behind me snaps me from my thoughts as I enter the line of trees I was so anxiously hurrying towards. I'm smart enough to keep walking as nonchalantly as I can, but I keep both ears open and purposely step towards the part of the trail that has more than a few thin twigs waiting to be snapped. I know how to avoid them, even in the dark, but anyone behind me likely doesn't.

Sure enough, a resounding snap echoes through the forest before I'm a dozen steps in. Still, I make sure to keep going as if I never heard a thing. Until I find the perfect cover, that is. I round a turn and slip behind the large smattering of bushes as soon as I'm out of sight. Poor thing, it won't even know what hit it. Well, poor person. I can hear the human footfalls. They really could use a few more lessons in sneaking. I'm certain they wouldn't be trying to get caught following me, not with the dagger on my hip. So the question is: why are they following me? Well, better to find out than go wondering, when it's Tanssi Kuun's safety at stake. It must stay a secret. And if they've followed me this far, I really can't be nice about it. And I have to ensure they don't get away from me either, or this will be even worse.

As I crouch in wait for the person to come into view, I put aside the gentle me who balks at the idea of pouncing on an unsuspecting stranger. Right now, I'm not Rosamar, the quiet girl in the corners; I'm Rosamar, protector of Tanssi Kuun.

A cramp creeps its way into my leg, a moth flits across my field of vision, a stiff breeze rustles the leaves of my hiding bush. Still I wait, forcing down my hesitation. Aunt trusted me to keep that world a secret. By the Lion, I will.

One, two, three footsteps crunch closer on the leaves scattered on the forest floor. I did well to lead them this way; I have plenty of warning. I wait.

Two very obvious strides later, the faint light of the moon shows me the outline of a man a bit closer to my bush than I'd anticipated. My heart threatens to fly from my throat, but I swallow it back down. He followed me, and I'm positive it's not Darin – the shoulders aren't as wide – and so I can't assume they mean well. By the way he tilts his head sideways, as if listening for my footsteps, I can't help but guess the opposite.

I keep perfectly still, as silent as the night itself. He lingers, scans the surrounding woods, body tense. He suspects. Without another thought, I leap.

He grunts as the force of my jump sends us both crashing to the ground, the breath is knocked from his body. My dagger at his throat cuts off any sound he might have made.

"You're been following me, stranger. Why?" My lips curl away from my teeth as I growl out my question. Vaguely, I wonder if I look as fierce as I feel.

He says nothing, trading words for struggling. I try my best to keep his shoulders down and press my blade closer against his throat. He stills.

"Why?" I snarl. The old Rosamar would be frightened of this new one.

Just then, the moonlight hits the man's face, and I have to fight to keep the dinner I had down. "Your Majesty?"

"Yes, I am he," he drawls. I can't tell if he's amused or angry. For all I know, he could be both.

Oh Aslan, I just jumped the King of Narnia.

Quicker than a blink, I vault off of him and sheath my dagger. Of all the people I could have threatened, why, why in the name of all things did it have to be the king? Wait a moment… Why was he following me in the first place?

"And you never answered my question," I fire back, my hand automatically going back to the hilt of my dagger.

"A question for a question: what are you doing out in the woods so late?"

"What right do you have to ask that?" Oh, right. He does just so happen to be _King_ Caspian. By the amused half-grin on his face, he's thinking the exact same thing. "I've done no wrong," I amend.

"Is that so?"

"If you were suspicious of me, though I can't fathom why, why did you not use spies, or the like?"

"Because I knew you myself, I thought the excuse to get to know you better might work in favor of both my curiosity and suspicion."

"Interesting point of view, considering my dagger was just at your throat."

Why do I feel the need to remind him of that? It'll be a miracle if this little escapade doesn't earn me a one-way trip to the dungeon!

"Yes, it was."

_Stunning words, Your Majesty._

I can't think of anything else to say, oddly enough. And King Caspian doesn't say anything either, so we end up staring at each other in some awkward mistrustful truce.

"Well, this wasn't how I imagined my night going," says the king after a very long and very uncomfortable silence.

"Nor I mine. Shall we part ways then?" Tackling or no, I've got somewhere to be, and I've no intention of waiting. I think I'd prefer the company of the faeries to the king's.

"Where do you intend to go?"

"Why must you know?"

"Rosamar, you're doing nothing to help your cause."

"And what cause might that be? I've done nothing!" Ignoring the night's most recent events, that is.

For a few moments, King Caspian looks rather conflicted. For my part, I wait as patiently as I can.

"Then please, explain this," he takes a carefully folded piece of parchment from his pocket and holds it out, "to me."

I stare at the parchment like it could be tipped with poison. I suppose it's a bit ironic how I'm portraying more apprehension between the two of us, even though King Caspian was the one tackled and not I. "What is it?" I ask carefully. My hand still rests lightly on the hilt of my dagger.

"Read it, if you wish to know," the king replies, his tone suddenly heavy and exhausted.

Perhaps that's the reason I take the parchment and unfold it. When I read it, my jaw threatens to unhinge. I was so careful! So so careful, I was sure no one suspected, no one even…Have I put Tanssi Kuun in danger? I have to choke back a cry of fear. Oh what have I done?! I ought to have been so much more careful!

"Is it true?"

"Which part of it?" It's the only thing I can think to say.

"Any of it, Rose."

Did I tell him he could call me Rose?

"Yes, I come out to the woods very often, and yes I carry a dagger with me at all times. I've been trying to get used to it. But no, I'm not meeting anyone out here. I have no plans against you or your reign, and that, by the Lion, is the pure truth." I hope he can hear the sincerity in my voice. I hope he believes it.

What if he doesn't?

"If you have no plans, what do you do here, and so late?"

I credit him for his decidedly reduced suspicion. But I don't know how to answer that. "It's not something I can tell you, Majesty. I hope you can understand."

By his face, he absolutely does not. "And I am to simply trust your word that you mean no ill will?"

"Yes," I answer in a strained whisper.

"And if I cannot?"

Then I don't know. I can't tell him, I can't show him; no one must know of Tanssi Kuun's existence, most especially not the king of Narnia! Kings keep few secrets, with their advisors and their generals and their delegates and the list goes on. Even if he might mean well, it would likely slip out, would it not? Certainly, it would!

"Then I would beg you to consider that perhaps this secret of mine is not my own to share. Perhaps I trust you as little as you trust me." It's a feeble argument, but it's the best I have right now, with my fear clouding my logic.

The king studies me for far longer than I'd have liked, and I have to fight myself to keep from shifting from foot to foot in my discomfort. Does he scrutinize everyone he suspects of something this directly? It's unnerving. His brown eyes could be warm and welcoming, as they were at the faire, but now they're unyielding in their calculation, no warmth to be had. "Am I frightening you?"

"I was always taught never to stare, Your Majesty. Most find it quite rude." I'm not the only one shocked at my audacity.

"A fair point, Rose." Even more shocking, he seems to concede; granted, it's only on a point of etiquette, but still, it manages to set me more at ease.

And that's exactly what he's going for, I realize with a start. "Don't you even try it, Your Majesty," I spit back suddenly, relishing the subtle jerk his head makes at my vehemence.

However, he's smart enough to refrain from playing the innocent.

"I've told you I can't share this, and you _will_ honor that." And now I'm ordering the king around. What a beautiful night this is. But still, I can't deny the slight adrenaline rush that comes from defying the monarch.

"And I am expected to simply let you go? You forget that you could be accused of treason, on suspicion alone."

"You are king; why don't you change that tenant?"

King Caspian just laughs. I scowl. I see nothing funny about any of this. I've been told before that my sense of humor is a bit lacking, but I really don't think this particular situation would speak to it even were it more abundant. "You really are quite different from how I thought you to be, Rosamar."

I raise an eyebrow, but I wait for him to continue. I need another moment to come up with a snarky reply.

"You seemed much less confrontational and much more reserved at the previous times we've met."

"I was not protecting anything just then. Now you are a threat, and so I've no qualms about treating you as such."

"A threat?" he echoes, amused curiosity taking over his face. Why does he continue to find humor in this?!

"Yes, a threat! You would have me tell you of something I cannot, and in the telling I'd put it in a good deal of danger! Kings cannot keep secrets, and even if you could, why in all the worlds would I trust you?" Oh, it feels good to vent, even so vaguely.

King Caspian raises his hands, palms toward me. I suppose he means to set me more at ease, but instead, it only fuels my frustration with him. No means no! If I've said I won't open my mouth, then by the Lion, I won't!

"You need only prove your innocence, that's all."

Damn him for his soothing voice.

"And just how might I go about doing that?"

"Tell me what you are doing out here every night, and I won't bother you again." His eyes somehow lose their calculating stare and soften a good deal as they search my face again and again.

"Have I not told you a hundred times? I cannot!" Honestly, how many times must I say it before he understands?

"Very well."

Wait…that's it?

King Caspian starts to back up, palms still facing me. I keep a wary eye on his every step. What is he up to? I know he's got some plan here, and I don't intend to go along with it.

"I do hope you find someone to trust." With that, he turns around and begins to walk away through the trees. I hate how his voice, suddenly gentle and caring, echoes through my mind. I hate it so much.

I wait, and I watch. He continues to walk steadily along, steadily away from me and my secret, from Tanssi Kuun. I should be relieved. Why am I not?

_Kings know how to fight, don't they?_

I hush that tiny, insolent little voice in my head.

_He could be of great help._

"Indeed, with lips loose and sword ready," I mumble back. And here I am, talking to myself. How lovely.

I wait longer, until I can barely see the king's back as it disappears into the trees. Damn it all.

"Your Majesty!" I call, before I can clap my hands over my idiot mouth.

He turns, ever so slightly. And he walks back toward me, as steadily as he left. I refuse to meet his eye.

Finally, he stands square before me, and I let my face paint itself into a perfect picture of stern. I meet his eye with a fierce glare and twist my lips into a scowl. "If you tell a single soul, living or dead or anything in between, of this, rest assured I will prove that concerned citizen's letter truer than true," I snarl, pointing my dagger at his neck for extra effect. And I mean it, too.

King Caspian's eyes widen just the slightest bit, perhaps as he considers arresting me in earnest. When he nods once, both curtly and respectfully, it's my turn to be surprised. I never expected him to agree; at least, I don't think I did.

Or maybe I did. Maybe I do need the help a king can give.

I'm a fool! He has plenty to do in Narnia alone!

No, I'll just have to see. He may well fall in love with Tanssi Kuun, as I have. How could anyone not?

His mouth opens to say something, but I shush him with the same shortness I've displayed this entire meeting. "Come with me. And don't speak; I've yet to decide if I like your company or not." With that, I grab his wrist and tug him after me. To his credit he only stumbles once, and he never wrenches his arm from my bruising grip.

How amusing this may be later on; here he is, a king of Narnia, and I'm pulling him along like a parent hauls a naughty child.

Amusing indeed.

"I do hope, for your sake, that you can keep a secret until your grave, Majesty," I grumble as the entry tree comes into view.

"Caspian."

"Beg pardon?"

"You may call me Caspian. I believe I already asked it of you, during a dance."

I remember that dance, and my cheeks gain a slight dusting of pink warmth to prove it. I keep my face facing forward and away from him. "What did I tell you about speaking?"

The king doesn't say anything else, but I get the slightest feeling he's entertained by my shortness.

We come to the tree, and I stop a few feet away. "Stay back here, Majesty." I don't want him to hear the password.

His nod comes quickly, but from the corner of my eye it almost seems patronizing. I save my snarl for a later date and purposely stand so he can't see what I'm doing. I press my pendant into the engraving and mumble "kuu" as quietly as I can. When the tree opens, the king's gasp of surprise brings a smirk to my face. "Come along now."

"Am I still to remain silent?" he asks as he comes to stand beside me. Is he supposed to stand so close?

I cast a glance sideways. His shoulders are in a tense line, and his face betrays his slight fear. And yet, his eyes are alight with wonder at the same time. I can't help but warm to him the slightest bit. "Do not say too much," I still warn. I willfully ignore the strangth flutter in my chest.

I grab his wrist again, though perhaps not as firmly as before, and guide us both through the glowing door and into Tanssi Kuun.

His face is completely worth the doubt that still plagues me. Perhaps I'm deluded, but I can't imagine a king often loses control of his jaw and his eyes at once. I have to contain a laugh at his blatant gaping. "Welcome to Tanssi Kuun, Your Majesty," I say with a little bow.

"This…this is your secret?" he breathes out reverently.

"I rarely see kings so shocked," I tease in reply.

"This is where you come at night?"

I nod, once. But I need to make him understand this. "You are king of Narnia, yes?"

He nods shallowly, his eyes still sweeping over the softly glowing trees, the stars too numerous to ever count, the wild grasses cloaked in shadows from the trees - all of the beauty that is Tanssi Kuun.

"And it is your job to protect it, yes?"

He nods again, more surely, as he turns at last to look steadily at me.

"Just as you protect Narnia, I protect Tanssi Kuun. My aunt charged me with this, and I swore to keep this place and its creatures safe."

King Caspian's gaze begins to unnerve me. Surely he'll need to blink sometime. But somehow, I keep my train of thought.

"Now do you understand why I threatened you? Why I was so wary for you to know?"

"Why secrecy?" His eyes bore into mine.

I answer with a question I know he'll understand. "What did the Telmarines do to Narnia?"

His gaze hardens, just a little. Yes, he understands.

"Aunt was afraid of the same happening here, and I share that fear. Who can be trusted with all of this wonder?" I sweep my arms around, gesturing to our surroundings. "So many could, and would, ruin it, change it. I can't let that happen. Can you understand that?"

King Caspian's lips press together, but the weight of understanding has never been heavier in his dark eyes. "Your secret will remain so."

It's enough. I turn to lead him out of this world. Immediately, his face turns confused.

"You didn't expect to stay and explore, did you?" I ask, gentle in my reprimand.

By the slight slouch in his shoulders, yes, he was.

I'm about to grab his wrist again and lead him out regardless, but the creature who welcomed me yesterday suddenly appears. We exchange words of greeting, and for a moment I forget all about the king.

"I've missed you!" it greets while enveloping me in a warm and light-filled hug.

"And I, you. Even in the single day I've been gone," I laugh.

"And tonight, your lessons begin! If you are willing, that is."

"I couldn't be more so."

Then its gaze shifts to look over my shoulder, and it quirks its head to the side. "Who is this? A friend?"

"We can hope, especially as he has no other choice."

King Caspian's gracious smile churns something in my belly. I ignore it.

"I am King Caspian the Tenth, of Narnia." His introduction is brief, and it has me a little confused. And then I realize; he's on edge. He's unsure. Another something stirs, this time in my chest. I ignore that, too.

"He's a friend," I confirm. His shoulders relax a bit at my subtle acceptance.

"Friends of the Protector are always welcome," it says in reply. "Won't you join us?"

"What's happening tonight?" I don't remember any of them mentioning something.

"Come and see!" With that, it dances off toward the clearing, but not before tossing one of its ribbons back toward me.

I catch it with ease and wind it around my arm, the relief of such easy acceptance brightening every inch of my skin. The silvery ribbon pulses with a silent, flowing beat steady as a lazy stream as it follows my movements. King Caspian's eyes warm with something I can't identify, so I turn my focus to the little ribbon that's my dance partner. It winds around my neck before returning to my arm. After sliding it from one hand to the other, I toss it back to the faerie gliding ahead of me. My smile seems too large for my face, but it quickly freezes in surprise when my guide tosses the ribbon to King Caspian.

He's just as shocked as me. He freezes for a moment, unsure and unprepared. But he was definitely watching me, so he knows the basics of what to do. Well, sort of. He's no natural dancer, but for what he lacks in grace he mostly makes up for in presence. His regal manner translates into movement more nicely than I'd like to admit. He spends less time toying with the ribbon than I did, but by the time he gives it back to the creature watching us both carefully, a smile's found its way onto his face as well. I refuse to think about how well it looks on him. Nor do I acknowledge the happy glow that lightens his brown eyes from ironwood to chesnut. I have no place to make such observations.

"So it's to be a surprise, then?" I ask my guide.

"It was to be, yes. I suppose it still is, as you don't know what precisely it is."

I keep my gaze focused on my guiding friend and follow it through the tall grass. Behind us, Caspian lets out a hiss. I can only guess that he was careless with the grass blades.

"Do take care, Majesty. The grass has a bit of an edge to it here." I don't attempt to hide my slight amusement.

"It would seem so," comes the mild-mannered answer. Perhaps the king is more polite here because it's in my comfort zone and not his own. Oddly enough, I quite like the feeling of power the thought brings.

"Take care, Caspian!"

I can't decide whether to smile at my guide's concern or to purse my lips at the familiarity. But it wouldn't be my place to disapprove; everything is friendly and welcoming here.

"I think I see why you protect this place so fiercely," he murmurs close to my ear.

I hold back a squeak. I didn't realize he was so close. "You've yet to see more. Believe me, you can barely understand right now." I try not to let him see how unnerved his nearness makes me.

"You must know how to do your job very well, then."

I hate the sudden shame I feel. My lips purse as my brow pinches together. I'm relieved the king's behind me, so he can't see the telltale signs of discomfort on my face. "I'm learning, Majesty. Thank you for the concern, if that's what it was meant to be," I finally answer.

He says nothing in reply, at least at first. but when he does, he manages to catch me off guard again. "I meant it as a compliment, not as disrespect." The gentle tone to his voice kills any biting words I might have thought of on my lips. Luckily, he doesn't seem to require an answer. "Forgive any intrusion on my part, but I must assume then that you are trusting someone? Surely you can't keep this secret on your own."

"And why not?" I wish he would stand just a little farther away.

"If anything were to happen, your shoulders should not bear the weight alone."

"You speak as if you know of such things." Does he?

"Perhaps I do." He suddenly moves past me rather quickly, his face purposely turned away from my hesitantly curious gaze.

I should let him go. I shouldn't pry. I shouldn't care, or at the very least I shouldn't act on any caring I might feel. But I've always hated to see someone suffer, save perhaps my father. Even then, it only went so far as to smirk behind my hand when he came home sporting a black eye from some 'disagreement.'

 _Heavens forgive my breach of_ conduct. Before I think the better of it, I lean forward and catch his wrist just before he can leave my reach. "I'm sorry," I say simply. His arm is tense under my gentle hold, and I remember that I held his wrist to haul him along earlier. I let my hand slide down to his, ignoring the screaming protests in my head.

For several long moments, the king stays quiet and keeps his face turned away. Vaguely, I notice my guide hovering and looking on in curiosity. I just barely manage to keep myself from pulling away and bolting ahead. "Thank you."

He can't see, but I nod. A small, tiny smile flickers across my face. Maybe he can see, because his fingers tighten around mine for the briefest moment. It's only then that I notice his eyes peeking back at me through the hair hanging over most of his face. Something warm stirs in my chest, and I promptly force it down. I only wanted to apologize for stirring up some obviously bad memories. Nothing more, and I won't pretend otherwise.

I stare back at him before I remember myself and let my hand slide free of his. His quickly falls back to his side. It almost seems like he's waiting for me to take the lead again, but I wait. I'd like the chance to scrutinize him for once. He seems to take the hint, and I suppress a sudden sigh of relief. That moment got a bit too…intimate, more than I'd have liked. No, more than it should have.

For the rest of the way to the clearing, my guide chatters on about random nothings, King Caspian keeps the conversation flowing, and I study him as closely as I can get away with. If I'm to have an edge over this man, I need to know everything about him I can. Granted, I can't tell an abundance about him from his back and shoulders, but every little bit could prove enlightening in the future.

His shoulders seem to be much more relaxed, though they still aren't completely carefree. How could they be? He's a king, and he's in a strange land with a girl who was perfectly willing to slit his throat not an hour earlier. And said girl clearly stirred up some unpleasant memory minutes ago. Why wouldn't he be tense? His back echoes his shoulders' sentiment, though its slightly bowed posture suggests that he's a bit tired. It _is_ rather late, and his days must be very busy. His stride is long and regal, unarguably so. He has a steady stride, one he must have learned back in his boyhood. Nothing speaks confidence and leadership like a determined gait; well, if it's coupled with a face to match. He's almost completely mastered both - only his eyes can betray him fully. Which is convenient for me.

"Here we are. I am sure you remember, Rose," my guide says warmly as we emerge from the impossibly tall grass.

"Very well," I answer politely. Truthfully, my mind's not thinking about last time. Yet it should be! I'm here to learn and protect, not worry with a king and try to read his body language. What on earth have I been doing for the last bit of this walk?

I fight the flush that threatens to take over my face. I really can be such a fool sometimes. "I remember the dance especially well," I add, both to prove my interest and to remind myself of it.

"You did very well. We were all impressed."

I smile my thanks and try to ignore King Caspian's curious glance that lasts a few seconds too long. "I hope I can continue to impress, then. Though I do have a lot to live up to."

"Your aunt would be proud. She already was proud of you, before you ever set foot here."

I can't help but notice the king's reaction. He hides it well, but I don't miss the brief flash of pain across his features.

He's lost someone dear to him too.

Another flash of something I won't name buries deep under my collarbone. But this feeling curls along, tickling its way along the underside of my skin until it centers in the tips of my fingers and the palm of my left hand - the hand that held Caspian's mere minutes ago. 

I curl my tingling hand into a fist, but even the bite of my nails into my flesh can't quite remind me to tear my eyes away.


	12. Seeing With the Heart

**(Rose POV)**

I stand there like a fool trying to swallow the comforting instinct fighting its . And then suddenly I don't have to worry about something so trifling.

My guide lets out a bloodcurdling shriek and tumbles from its place in the air above us. I leap forward and catch it in my arms, turning my back toward the direction the arrow came from to shield it. And the king, King Caspian, a stranger to this world, draws his sword quicker than I can blink and steps between me and another arrow.

"What are you _doing_?" I scream at him. He's the king of Narnia, he can't put himself in harm's way! If anything happens to him, this place would be exposed for sure.

"Stay behind me!" he hollers back.

"But-"

"Protect it!"

Then I understand. I'm occupied with the faerie in my arms, and my dagger won't be much use against arrows. The king's sword will be a bit better of a defense, and he's a much better fighter than I am (though he doesn't necessarily know that). So I keep my guide wrapped in my arms and sprint toward the others. Another arrow whizzes past my shoulder, and another past my face. I feel the kiss of the feathers against my cheek.

I don't move out of the way; I have to protect these creatures. This my job, the whole reason I was ever brought here. I have to launch myself at one of them to knock them out of the way of another arrow, and I have to be careful not to jostle the being in my arms in the process. I barely notice its blood staining the front of my clothes. My clothes don't matter; I can change them before work begins.

"Caspian!"

He whirls to face me, dodging the small knife that was flying toward his back in the process. A quick nod is all the thanks we have time for.

"Take cover in the woods." I whisper to the creatures rushing to me. "Will you be safe enough there?"

"Yes, we'll be safe. Take care of the king," one of the older-looking ones answers. I can't help but admire its calmness. Has anything like this happened before?

"I'll see you to the woods, and then you hide, okay?"

They all nod, and I use my body to shield them as they whiz into the cover of the trees. The thick foliage hides them in moments, until even their light is hidden away. I whirl around to go back to the king's side once the woods swallow the last of them.

"Rosamar, what-"

"I'm helping, Majesty, whether you like it or not!" I holler right back, drawing my dagger without a moment's hesitation. I'm not about to leave the king of Narnia to fight off anything alone, especially not when it's my job to protect this world. My dagger's small size and minimum reach matters far less when I only have one person to look out for.

_Who is this, anyway? A stranger in Tanssi Kuun?_

Lion, my inner monologue can surely wait. And the dart flying toward King Caspian's neck really can't. Miracle of all miracles, I manage to hit it away.

And then just as suddenly as the little skirmish erupted, it stops. No more arrows or darts or knives or anything come flying out from the grass. All is still and peaceful, exactly as it was mere minutes ago. But I keep my blade out, and so does King Caspian.

"I see you do have some skill with a blade."

"I beg your pardon?" Does he mean that in a good way or a bad way?

"I believe I know why you allowed me to come with you tonight," he continues, as if he never heard me. His gaze bores into mine.

I fight the itch to cross my arms like a petulant child. "And what is that?"

"You want to learn from me," he says, as if it's the easiest thing in the world to guess. Didn't he just finish complimenting me?

But I can't deny that. So I choose to stay silent, using the excuse of sheathing my dagger to break the silent stare-down.

"Don't grip the blade so tightly. It gives you less mobility," he starts. Is that amusement I hear in his voice?

"I never even confirmed I needed your help," I try to protest, even as I store away the tip greedily. I should be much more annoyed at the king's presumption than I am.

"You had no need to." He motions for me to unsheathe my dagger, and to my chagrin, I do so without a further word of challenge. His very subtle smirk of triumph sets my face into a bit of a scowl, but I'm too desperate to really put up a fight.

At his gesture, I take my stance. I curse the embarrassed pink in my cheeks as he quickly stifles a chuckle. If I were any less perceptive, I'd have missed it.

"You need to set your feet much wider than that, Rose."

"Did I ever give you permission to call me that?" I wonder aloud.

"It suits you," he answers with very little attempt to hide his amusement.

"Any other tips, Your Majesty?" I quickly ask, hoping it might somehow cover my unease.

"Keep your elbows in, and your shoulders a bit more forward." At my first attempt, he shakes his head. "Round them forward."

I try to do as he says, but I don't completely understand. Fortunately for my patience, he doesn't chuckle at my attempts.

He does something entirely worse.

"Your Majesty, I can figure it out on my own-" I protest as he stands behind me and corrects my stance in far closer proximity than I'd have chosen.

"I'm certain you can, but this will be quicker." If I didn't know better, I'd say there's a smile in his voice.

I will the pink in my cheeks to make a hasty and permanent retreat. "Your Majesty-"

"Caspian," he corrects quietly, even as he corrects my arms.

"I don't think it appropriate."

To my surprise, he sighs his defeat and says nothing more on the matter. Yet, he still insists on verbally correcting every last inch of my stance, right down to how my fingers are arranged around the hilt. I'll never admit it, but the process was definitely quicker when he was positioning me.

"Is this better?" I finally ask after several long minutes pass.

"Much. Try not to move for a while."

"Muscle memory. Is that what we're getting at?"

"I see you've had a few lessons already." There's that smile in his voice again. I find I have the sudden urge to smack it off his face. To my credit I don't, even though the mental image brings some measure of satisfaction.

"Yes, I have." And that's all I say on the matter.

A few corrections and tips and a good quarter hour later, I'm released from the stance. My arms have never burned more in my life, not even after carding for the first few days. But I steel my face so it hides as much of my discomfort as possible. I can't afford to seem so weak, not on the first day of training, if that's what this is.

"So is this you saying you'll help me?" I ask, sounding much more confidant than I feel.

"If you ask for my help, I will give it."

If he professes to know me even a little, he knows how big of a step that is for me. I, Rosamar, do _not_ ask for help. Not ever. I'm a very independent sort of soul. I don't ask for help. I don't ask for things people can deny me.

But it seems I'll have to. If I want to protect this world, I have no choice. Learning from both Darin and King Caspian could prove extremely helpful. Especially since their styles seem to be rather different, in the little I've seen. If I can learn both, how much more formidable would I be than if I only learned from one of them?

But by the Lion, I don't want to. Isn't there some other way of helping the faeries? There has to be, there must be. I consider the set of Caspian's jaw, the tilt of his eyebrows, and the hint of some unnamed softness in his gaze.

No. There is not. No matter how much I hate it, Tanssi Kuun can't afford for me to be so stubborn. So I bite down on my pride and do what I can't remember doing in my entire life.

"Very well then. Will you teach me how to handle a blade?" I do my best to keep the sourness from my voice, with marginal success.

At his hesitance, though I suspect it's just a show, I tack on something I wouldn't say otherwise.

"Caspian, will you?"

That does it.

The king dips his head. I contain my smile. After all, this is why I allowed him to come with me. I wanted his help, though I didn't think I'd have to ask for it pointe blank. But now I have it, if nothing else. Even if I'm considering learning just so I can stab him later.

"Thank you, Majesty."

From the sideways look he hits me with, King Caspian doesn't appreciate my return to formalities. But what can I say? I only called him by his name to get him to agree. Surely he understands that.

"Is it safe now?" I ask, changing the subject in a hurry.

"Yes, I believe so."

With that, I quietly call to the faeries. They emerge slowly, cautiously, from the trees, still looking quite on edge. I can't blame them a whit.

"Thank you, Rose," they chorus. "And thank you Caspian."

The second thank you makes my eyebrows jump up, but I recover quickly. Thanks is indeed in order for the Narnian king, though I'm not sure why the faeries are so quick to use his given name.

King Caspian accepts the thanks with a humility that draws my eye to him. It's a rare thing, humility like that. He doesn't seem to be a king now; just a man who did what he thought to be right, who's slightly embarrassed for the gratitude being shown him. Somehow, I hadn't imagined him as the type. But then again, I only saw him as a king. Maybe I better try a little harder to see him as a man too. Isn't everyone more than their title or station?

I tip my head away from everyone so hide my slight shame. How could I have been so heartless? King Caspian may be a good man. I think I might be able to trust the man Caspian, in time. Perhaps, even the king Caspian.

A gentle hand on my shoulder brings me out of my own head and back the present. I slowly turn and find myself staring into King Caspian's curious gaze. But I shake my head and hide my feelings and thoughts deep inside of myself. I've not known him long enough to let him in too much. To my relief, the moment is broken by one of the faeries.

"Rose, I believe your first lesson is in order."

"Lesson? In what?" They never mentioned lessons last night.

"To see as we do. With the soul," a particularly brilliantly lit faerie says.

Ah. Now those are lessons I think I'll enjoy much more than swordplay. I'm about to follow the faerie who spoke into the nearby trees, but I remember the king.

"Do not worry. We'll keep King Caspian well entertained," my guide answers my unspoken worry, her voice weak. Their wound is bandaged and one of the older faeries is hovering by their side, but they will need more time to heal.

My concern shifts from King Caspian to my guide, but they point to the forest with one of their ribbons. It flickers, as if glowing is taking up too much energy. I hesitate, but the firmness in their gaze makes me follow my new teacher into the trees, though my feet drag as I go.

We walk along in silence, but I come to appreciate the peacefulness my new acquaintance exudes. It sends one of its ribbons to play with me every so often, and of course I dance with the unique lights. They glide with my every movement with such ease, and somehow they help me let go of my more immediate worries.

"I think these lights are my favorite dance partners," I comment as two wrap around my waist with my arms. They send warm tingles across my skin where they brush the fabric of my dress.

"Come a fortnight from now, perhaps you may change your mind." Is that mischievousness I hear in its voice?

"What happens in a fortnight?"

"Reach out to me, and see if you can find the answer."

Ah, so my lesson's begun already. I assume it means to use my mind, so that's what I try to do.

"No, not like that. No intellect is needed for this," they correct softly. Their voice is so like velvet might be if velvet could speak; soothing, achingly soft, warmth-giving, and with a slight, ever so slight undercurrent of coarseness.

I try again, but once again, nothing. My eyes lift from my shoes to the faerie staring at me patiently. I feel their slight disapproval.

"Yes, that's better."

My head tips to the side in confusion. What did I do?

"You felt my disapproval, yes?"

"Yes…"

"This is what you must do. See with your soul. Your aunt preferred to call it seeing with the heart, if that is of any aid to you."

She may have mentioned that, albeit offhandedly. Still, perhaps it does make the concept a little easier to grasp.

"The eyes are the windows to the soul…she told me that once," I recall as I lock my gaze with the faerie's.

This time, I feel approval. I take a moment to bask in that. A faerie approves of me. I haven't felt approval very much in my life. It feels…it's nothing I can put words to. It's calmer then relieving, quieter than happy, gentler than jubilant. It's a foreign feeling, and I know it's not pride. Pride is louder than this new feeling. Whatever this is…I like it.

"Try to find the answer to your question, Rose," the faerie reminds me. They exude serenity.

I keep my eyes on the faerie's, and I stop trying to focus. When I focused, my mind entered the picture, and I thought far too much.

After a few moments, my mind clears and my heart starts to open. It starts as a warm twinge just above my ribcage and grows into a soft throb in time with my heartbeat. I see my feelings, the light of curiosity and learning shot through with the darkness of doubt. I stretch out and find my teacher's feelings. There is the warmth of patience and the light of the joy from sharing knowledge. And at the edge a multicolored jubilance and abandon twinkles away, joy dancing with trust and love and the peaceful wildness I've always felt from this world. And I see what I'm looking for. These are feelings I know well, only magnified beyond what I've yet felt.

"A dance?"

Pride radiates off of my teacher in waves. They're proud of me… _proud_ of me. That's a new feeling. A louder feeling than before, but I still like it.

"Tanssi Kuun means 'Dance of the Moon.' You found us just in time," they answer in their warm velvet voice.

I almost say that I can't wait, but I remember I don't have to say it; my teacher can feel my anticipation, certainly.

More approval, and it's approval of me. I duck my head, suddenly bashful. This is new, and I like it, but it's new and it's unfamiliar. I've yet to get used to it, and I think I'll be bashful until I do. But I'm getting the feeling that it's okay. The faerie, well, faeries, are quite understanding.

"Need I learn any particular dances?"

"Dance comes very naturally to you, but we will show you the contours of it. However, you'll have to wait to see the entire thing until the moon dance." I don't miss the twinkle in their eyes, but the twisting twinkle of mischief a loud feeling across our hearts.

"Aunt would be proud." Now I have a twinkle in mine to match.

"Yes, she would."

The double meaning is not lost on me, and I duck my head again at the praise.

"Come, we return to the others now."

"That's all?"

"For tonight, yes. The heart is not meant to be a chore."

I pad behind my teacher willingly, my face alternating between grinning and scrunching in slight embarrassment.

"In time, there will be only gratitude," my teacher murmurs beside me. I appreciate the gesture, their flight beside me rather than ahead of me. This feels more companionable.

"As you say, in time." But I catch myself smiling.

The mood stays light in its peaceful way as we reemerge from our walk in the trees. I can't help but stare at the sight before us.

In less than an hour, the faeries have transformed Caspian from an unsure man attempting a new set of movements into something that I can't tear my eyes from. I never imagined power and grace could be combined so exquisitely. Somehow, the power only magnifies the grace.

"If you allow your mouth to hang open much longer, King Caspian is sure to notice."

I bite the inside of my cheek against a blush and close my mouth in a right hurry.

"Shall we-"

I shake my head before my teacher has to finish the question. No, I have no desire to interrupt. I'm enjoying watching, though I'll never admit it out loud. And besides, isn't interrupting rather rude?

From the quirk of my teacher's mouth, my inner sentiments are not so quiet as I'd like.

More sharp twists of embarrassment pierce my heart as I wonder if the other faeries can sense my awe. 

My teacher is quick to reassure me. "They can if they wish," they say gently, "but you'll feel their heart reaching for yours."

Fastinating. I let myself feel mischievous, just a little bit, to see if they'll pick up on that. For a moment, nothing. Then I remember to open my heart to theirs, invite them in. It's far easier than I thought it could be.

Several faeries glance over with a twinkle in their eyes, but just for a split second. Not long enough for the king to notice. He's busy learning a new technique, a sight that tugs the smallest of smiles onto my lips.

My blush threatens to make a return, and I bite the inside of my cheek again. I feel the amusement of the faeries I've invited in. The innocence in them washes every feeling I sense in the comfort of knowing they only ever mean well. My guide leaves the cluster of faeries, escorted by the same faerie as before, to bring my teacher and myself into the dance.

"You must learn too," they insist as they tug on my hand with a light ribbon. They must be a little stronger from whatever healing magic the faeries possess; the ribbon doesn't flicker like before, though it's still dimmer than usual. The pale golden band tickles and leaves my skin feeling much cooler than my teacher's amber and sapphire lights did. Goosebumps pop up on my arms in answer to the whispering contact.

"What am I to learn?"

"A new technique," is all they answer.

 _How informative_. My dry sarcasm is met with darting flashes of mischievousness and amusement from my guide. They send ribbon after ribbon to me until one's wrapped around each of my arms and legs and my torso too.

"A quick teaching method, I suppose?" I ask, even as I wonder if they should be exerting energy like this. But I suppose their companion would have reprimanded them by now if there was any danger.

"Correct."

My guide's ribbons begin to move my arms and guide me into a few stumbling steps. It's not like me to stumble! I grit my teeth and find my balance, even as my feet continue to be taken from under me and brought into steps too long for my natural stride. My legs aren't that long. My arms flail of their own accord, and before I can regain my balance again I'm falling toward the ground. My embarrassment begins even before I hit, but somehow I never do.

"Apologies, Rose. I see your legs are not quite long enough for that," my guide says.

"Are you sure of that?" I answer sarcastically as their ribbons right me and begin moving my arms around again.

The movements feel so foreign to me. I don't move this quickly, with this kind of force behind my movements. If I had to name this style, I'd name it after a hawk; it swoops and dips and dives in and out of pauses, and there's incredible strength required to execute it. This must be Caspian's style. Was I not admiring the power behind his movements just minutes ago?

The cool of the golden bands tickles my skin, and for a moment I wonder if feeling the slightest bit angry might help me with this technique. I think of my family in Beruna.

Almost instantly, my dancing gains some of the power it was sorely lacking before. No more floating, wispy movements, not while I have my family on my mind. My father, and his constant derision. My mother, my brothers, my sister. How they treated my aunt. How they treated me. I hide the particulars, but I let all the feelings they stirred in me bubble to the forefront of my mind. I don't want anyone, not even these faeries – especially not these faeries, to know the details. They're my burden.

And I think of Aunt. More importantly, I remember how I'll never see her again. Images flash through my memory, of lit pipes and careless men in that tavern my family owned. There's my aunt, coming behind the counter to look for me. I see, with painful clarity, the stray spark from the flint. I see the smoke waft up from the pipes, hear my father's raucous laughter among the others' equally careless hoots. The overly-sweet smoke tickles my throat, as it did then. It smells of burning sap and scorched wood. When the spark hits the spilled rum on the table, the smoke turns decidedly less sweet.

I feel my mouth opening to warn someone, anyone, of the small flame flickering to life on that table. No one hears. The small fight that's broken out in a corner covers the sound of my timid warning. I was taught early on to hold my tongue in the tavern; my mother's handprint on my cheek made sure I remembered that lesson. I wish so much I'd never learned that lesson, never paid it any attention. I wish I'd known that throwing the lesson away might have saved her.

It couldn't have stopped the canteen that flies through the air, right toward that flickering flame. But it could have gotten the one member of my family who returned my love out of harm's way.

The fire explodes into something that no longer needs me to warn people. And as it bursts to life right next to my aunt, it takes hold of her clothes, and within seconds I've lost sight of her face. Is that her screaming, or is it me? Perhaps both?

The counter edge digs into my hips as I try to scramble over it to do something, anything. But it's too late. Chaos erupts, and I'm knocked to the floor in the commotion. My attempts to crawl to the center of the fire, to Aunt, fail. I try to fight the arms that wrap around my waist and haul me away, but they're just so much stronger than I am.

By the time we're outside, even I know it's too late. I don't even thank the brawny man who pulled me outside before the roof collapsed. I'm not thankful.

With the images of the fire still burning their way through my mind, I dance my way through the flames. My feet leap and my arms lash out, like I wanted to that day. All I can see is my aunt consumed by the flickering orange-red fire.

"Rose!"

A concerned shout – I didn't even know the faeries could shout - brings me back for a moment, and then the moments multiply. My eyes focus, only to see everyone staring at me. Caspian's stare bores into me, somehow the most intense of them all. 

"I…need a moment. I'm alright, don't follow me," I manage to say. I walk away on shaky legs without waiting for an answer.

Lion, I hope they don't ask questions. Of course, the faeries probably don't have to. Even better; they know already. I don't need their pity! My anger bubbles up hard and fast, but I don't push it away. I think I need this right now.

_Because it is so much easier to be angry than be sad…than to be guilty._

"Quiet!" I grit out. I don't need enlightenment, I just need a moment to compose myself. That's all! I try my hardest to keep my mind blank, but in the end it's no use.

And I'm forced to understand something I've kept at bay for the year and a half since Aunt's death.

"It's my fault," I whisper to the empty air. "I'm so sorry, Aunt…"

Father was right to call me useless. Mother was right to say I was a disaster always waiting to happen. My older brother was right to call me a fool. My older sister was right to say I was worthless.

"No, Rose. You're not."


	13. A Warning in Ash

**(Rose POV)**

I only turn to face the voice so I can give its owner a withering glare. "Did I not say, in very clear speech, not to follow me?"

"I did not intend to," he answers slowly, cautiously.

I send him another glare before turning my back on him. "Go away, Caspian. I'd like to be alone."

Careful footsteps approach me, and I have to bit my tongue against a biting remark. I don't want to hurt him, I just want to be left alone. I have to get rid of these poisonous thoughts on my own.

"I won't keep you long. But please, understand you are not worthless."

"I know that, it was just…a weak moment." I hate that he saw that weak moment.

I can't see him, but I think he nods. The ground under his boots crunches as he turns to go. But how did he know? "Wait?"

He waits.

"Why do you care, what I think of myself?"

That was _not_ what I meant to ask. I was supposed to ask how he knew that's what I was thinking!

"I have felt the same things. I would not wish them on anyone." How convenient; his reply answers both of my questions.

"Thank you." It slips out before I can stop it, but I can't completely regret it. It's a nice sentiment, the one he just expressed.

For a moment, the king's hand rests on my shoulder. I try not to like the warmth it gives. And then he leaves me be, just like I asked.

"Thank you," I whisper when he's gone. If nothing else, he seems to understand, even if he doesn't know the particulars.

No, it's not my fault. It's not my fault the flint sparks went too wide, that there was rum on the table, that the drunk tavern-goer spilled all of his drink on the sputtering flame there. I could have done nothing. Even if I had warned everyone loud enough, who would have listened? No one. There really was nothing to be done.

But that's not right; Aunt would have listened. She would have heard. But then, she was always so kind. Might she have tried to save someone? And have died in the process?

There are simply too many what-ifs, and it hurts my head to try and resolve all of them. There is only one simple, painful truth: Aunt is dead, and I'll continue to live without her as I've done for the past year and a half. Placing blame won't do anything. It won't bring her back, and it won't change what happened that day. There's nothing to be done. So I'll be better off if I put it from my mind and concentrate on the task at hand. I quickly make my way back to the clearing in the grass.

Thankfully, the faeries have kept themselves busy in my absence, and they only look up for a moment before returning to their dancing and singing. They must have understood not to ask after me. King Caspian seems to understand this too, even though he keeps my gaze for just a few moments longer than the faeries. But the moment I look away, so does he. I'm grateful for that.

I'm just about to join in the dancing when I notice something odd toward the horizon. There is no sun here, so why did there seem to be a light just now? Surely it's nothing to be worried with, but after an attack out of nowhere only hours ago, I'd much rather make doubly sure. I don't want to take any chances. So I slip away again, and if anyone notices they say nothing. Even the king leaves me be.

Just in case, I make sure my dagger is secure on my hip before I go any further.

Even though the odd flash of light vanishes long before I make much headway, I keep my eyes fixed on the spot on the horizon it happened. I hope it's nothing to be worried about. But in my heart, I know I only hope that so much because I know there is still plenty of worry to be had.

I walk steadily, and I thank the Lion that Tanssi Kuun doesn't seem to be very big. I'll be gone for hours as it is, but at least it won't take days to get there. But even so, I arrive far sooner than I'd have liked. Yes, I was curious and wary, but that didn't prepare me for this. What place does death have here?

Yet here it is. Everywhere.

The trees come suddenly to an end, and I'm greeted instead with a smoldering grey plain where the rest of the forest ought to have been.

At first, I want to ask what happened out loud, but I think I already know the answer. This is retaliation for the small fight earlier. Whoever it was, this is their way of telling us that they're still here and just waiting for the next opportunity. I'm staring at the proof and kneeling in the ash. It's a thick carpet under my knees, and it feels soft when my fingertips brush over it. They leave shallow tracks, and I have the odd thought that if I sneeze, it might look like it's snowing.

"Tanssi Kuun, what's happening to you?" I whisper to the wind that gusts through my hair and sends up a cloud of ash. I can't help but cough when I try to breathe in and instead get a lungful of the tiny flakes. They seem so soft to my touch, but against my throat they scratch with a vengeance.

I wish Aunt was here. She'd know what to do much better than me. Would she have been able to stop this before it started?

"Hush," I whisper. I can't afford to doubt myself, not now.

I let a handful of grey sift through my fingers as I calm my threateningly dark thoughts. They fall away just like the ashes, and I stand quickly and brush myself off. It doesn't matter what might have happened - only right now and what could happen matters. And self-doubt or not, it's still my job to protect this world. It's time I stopped pitying myself.

My eyes sweep over the gray wasteland in front of me once more as I give a resolute nod. I have to find out who this enemy is. And when I find who it is, then I will end them. I have no choice. I turn on my heel and walk back the way I came, my brow in what could be a permanent furrow. I'll be putting in a lot of training hours with my dagger – a _lot_.

By the time I get back to the faeries, the night is coming to a close and the moon is rising. Every faerie is looking to the moonrise, and I happily join them. I haven't seen daytime here yet. My guide comes to float beside me, bringing a smile to my face and easing the tension in my brow. I offer my hand for holding, an offer they gladly take. I feel as warm as I did on my first night here. It seems so long ago since then... How much I've learned, already. Maybe Aunt was right to give me this charge.

Right or no, I'll make her proud.

"As I think you have been told before, you already do," my guide murmurs just loud enough for me to hear. A tiny hand rests on my shoulder, and I give my guide and my teacher equally grateful smiles. Who could understand as well as these creatures do? My gratitude only fuels my protective determination. I think I'd gladly die for them; no, I know I would.

The moon slowly inches up until it peeks out at us. I smile at the tiny sliver of pure white. I look closer, and I'm surprised to see that the white is actually a mish-mosh of every color there is, all blended into one.

"Where does the moon get its light?" I whisper.

"From us," answers my teacher. As some of the faeries move, the white of the moon deepens and brightens accordingly.

I'm not ashamed of my gasp of wonder. I still have so much to learn about this world, and its creatures.

We all watch the rest of the moonrise in almost-silence, with only soft humming of welcome to break the quiet. Only when it's fully above the horizon do I notice the person missing. "Where is King Caspian?"

My guide uses a light ribbon to point toward a patch of moss at the edge of the forest. There he lies, fast asleep – turned away from us, but I can tell he's not awake. He's far too still, his breathing too quiet, for him to be otherwise. I'm tempted to let him be, but I know I have to get back soon. I'll be hard-pressed enough to return on time as it is. Sima will have every right to be more than put out with me if I'm late again. I'm loathe to do it, but I separate from the massive cluster of faeries and make my way to the sleeping king.

"Your Majesty?" I say softly. He doesn't even stir. "Your Majesty?" I try again, this time gently giving his shoulder a shake. Still nothing.

"Caspian?" Another shake. _Still_ nothing.

"Caspian!" More shaking. He grumbles and rolls onto his stomach.

"CASPIAN!" This time, I jab him in the ribs with my finger.

With a startled yelp, he's up and wide awake. "Rosamar! What is it?"

I fight back my amusement at his grumpiness. "It's morning, and it's also high time we returned to Narnia. Sima will have a fit if I'm even a minute late, and I can't have the entire castle searching for you," I explain quickly from my crouch beside him.

He looks like he's about to say something, but he just gets to his feet without a word. I accept the hand he offers me and pretend not to notice that he holds on for just a second longer than he has to.

I say my goodbyes to the faeries, and he does the same. A few ask if he'll be coming back again, but he just smiles and says that it's up to me. I act like I'm too busy to hear him, because I don't know what to say to that. I'm afraid to make plans, if I'm honest with myself. The faerie I'm currently bidding a temporary goodbye to gives me an extra hug, as if it knows. Of course it does. Then why are they looking at me like there's something I don't know?

Never mind that. There's enough to worry with. My job is to keep them safe, first and foremost.

I finish my goodbyes in a little bit of a hurry and take off toward the entry tree as soon as it's polite to do so. At this rate, I really will be late. I'd be wise come up with a cover story on the way back.

"You truly are in a hurry."

"I'm very happy this isn't supposed to be an intelligent conversation," I retort. I regret it the instant it leaves my lips. I had no right to be so short with him. "I'm sorry," I immediately say, trying not to look at him. But apologies don't mean nearly as much without eye contact. I meet his eyes for just long enough as we walk along. I'm grateful that the entry tree is steps away. We pass through and into Narnia.

"Home for you, Majesty."

"And not for you?" he asks. I can feel his gaze burning quasi-pleasantly into my back.

"I think you know that answer without a word from me." I don't turn around to answer; I just keep walking because I'm in a hurry and I'm worried and tense and…I don't want him to see too much. He's difficult to fool, this Narnian king. He understands me far more than I'd like. I can only guess that he's felt similarly to me many times before, but it doesn't set me any more at ease. I like to deal with myself in private.

"You're afraid," he states simply.

Even with my back to him, I still can't hide. "Leave it lie, please."

To my surprise he does. Maybe he's learning after all. He's a quick learner. Silence stretches as we hustle through the trees, and I only break it because I want to make sure I'm in the clear now.

"My innocence is proven, yes?"

King Caspian sighs almost too quietly to hear, but he doesn't deny it. "Yes," he says.

"You sound disappointed."

"I had hoped for some time to get to know you."

Now why would he want to do that?

I want to joke and tell him that I'm boring company anyway, but something else entirely comes out of my mouth. "You still may, if you insist on it."

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don't wish to make you uncomfortable."

I decide I like the dry humor in his tone. "You are the king. You may do as you please," I say matter-of-factly. 

"And what would you have me do?"

Why is he asking that? But since he asked, I do have quite the answer for him.

I'd like very much for him to let me be, but I need his training. I'd like for him to stop understanding me so well, to stop knowing what I think and feel with just a glance. I'd like that privacy back. I'd like to no longer need his help, because it would be ever so much easier to be left to myself. I work best alone. I'd like for him to leave me alone, really.

And yet, that isn't what I'd like at all.

What I really want isn't that, but I won't let myself even think the words. So it remains a mystery to me, simply because I refuse to acknowledge it, at least for now. There are much more important things to worry with. So what would I have him do?

"I would have your help in protecting that world and everything in it."

 _And nothing more_.

If he sees that second, unspoken sentiment in my eyes as I turn and look at him, he doesn't speak anything on the matter. He leaves it lie, as I asked. Is that understanding or does he truly not see it? I hope for the latter. I think a piece of me doesn't like being understood.

"You will have it."

Even stubborn me can appreciate the sincerity in his voice. "Thank you," I reply, with just as much earnestness in mine.

We continue brusquely on.

"Did you walk the whole way?" I ask. Somehow the silence feels too intimate.

"Yes."

"Oh."

Thankfully, we're rapidly nearing the end of the forest, and I pick up the pace even more. The sun's about to rise, and I'm going to be late. I'll have to run full speed once I get to the city if I want to have a prayer of making it on time. I don't want Sima or Lilia asking any more questions. Lying and evading can get tiresome after so much of it. We hurry out of the woods, and almost before I know it, we're inside the city walls.

"Thank you for your help, Your Majesty," I say with a tiny curtsy for my goodbye.

"Be safe, Rosamar," he says. I'm left blinking in the street when he gives my hand a small squeeze. Then, just like that, he's gone.

I shake myself and race through the streets until I finally burst inside Sima's shop. I've only just made it, and my rather raucous entry has both Sima and Lilia regarding me curiously. "I'm sorry, but I am on time!" I gasp out, kneading a stitch in my side as I take my seat on my stool. I don't waste any time in getting to work.

"Child, is something the matter?"

"Why do you ask?" I sputter out, playing it off of my lack of breath.

"Why does she ask? Rose, honestly, you can't deny that you've been acting very odd lately, odd even for you," Lilia instantly cuts in.

For a moment, I start to panic. And then I get an idea. A wonderful, brilliant idea. "I've only been worried, that's all." I know, without a doubt, that both of them will take the bait.

"What of, child?" Sima's concern leaks through, and for a moment I feel bad for the lie I'm about to tell. Just for a moment.

"Sima, I know this is a lot to ask, but might I have a few days off?"

"And what would you do with those days?"

"My family's in trouble, or so their letters tell me. My little sister is very sick, and she may not have much time left. I'd like to say my goodbyes, in person."

"Oh! Why of course, Rose, child! You may have all the time you need, a month even."

A month?! This is better than I ever dreamed! A month, to spend in Tanssi Kuun? What could possibly be better? A small stab of guilt almost lowers my enthusiasm, but I remind myself of the attack and the ash in place of the eastern side of the forest. That world needs me, and needs me there all the time, not just at night. This is for the best.

"Th-thank you, Sima. I can't express how grateful I am," I stutter out, rather uncharacteristically. I, Rosamar, do not stutter. But it has the desired effect, at least.

"Rose, how could I do anything less?" For the first time in the many months I've known her, Sima shows a kind side free of her usual sarcasm or gruffness.

"Thank you," I say again, because once doesn't seem to be enough, especially not with that twinge of guilt still lingering in my chest. But it really is for the best. Lion knows I couldn't tell the truth!

"When do you leave?" Lilia asks. She'll miss me, I can see it in her face that she will. It puts a gentle, fond smile on my face.

"Tonight."


	14. Departing for the Month

**(Rose POV)**

Sima shoos me off home to pack at noon. Any other time I might have protested, but she could have saved faeries' lives just with that alone. So I dash home, pack in seconds, and rush off down the street as inconspicuously as I can. Darin's been so kind to me; I can't leave without giving him some warning.

"Darin?" I call as I walk inside his shop. It instantly reminds me of Tanssi Kuun; the heat wraps around me like a faerie's hug.

Of course, he doesn't hear me over the pounding of his hammer. I always forget that when I come to see him. I walk up, wait until his hammer comes down, and lay a hand still trembling from anticipation on his shoulder.

"Rose, what brings you here before sundown?" He knows it's me; he always does. I can only guess that my hand on his shoulder is the most tentative. That must be it.

"I had to tell you, I'll be gone for about a month."

"A month? Where?" he asks, clearly a bit upset. Will he miss me so much?

And suddenly, I don't know what to say. It feels more wrong to lie to Darin than it did to Sima. Lying to friends, that's not something I can ignore. I wouldn't ignore it if it were done to me. "I…I can't say."

"Can't say?" he repeats, somewhere between dubious and disappointed. Disappointed that I won't trust him? But how could he know that?

I get a wild idea, but perhaps it's one of my more sensible ones thus far. I don't need to tell him about Tanssi Kuun. But if something comes up here, like another letter or someone sneaking around my place, I need to have some way of knowing.

That's why I pull out the spare pendant from its place around my neck and hand it to him.

"What's this?"

"You remember the engraving you helped me find on that tree?"

"Yes, but what does that-"

"And you remember how to find it? Where it is?"

"This pendant fits there, doesn't it?"

I blink up at him. He figured that out rather quickly. I recover. "It does. If you ever need me, write a letter. Match the pendant to the engraving and say 'kuu.' Leave the letter in the door you'll find. And under no circumstance utter a word of the pendant, the door, the tree, any of it, to a single soul, do you understand?" I stare him right in the eye, one of the few times I've mustered the courage. But he needs to know how serious I am, and I need to see that he understands.

"You have my word. I'll not breathe a syllable," he says softly. The fire behind him casts in shadows, but his eyes are as kind as ever.

"Good." I hold his gaze for a minute more, to be sure. He seems to understand, but only when I'm entirely convinced do I look away.

"Simply drop the letter into the door?"

"Yes. Do not step through that door, unless someone's life depends on it. Understood?" It's much safer if he doesn't know everything. but that doesn't mean I can't have eyes and ears over here. I'd be wise to do so, since apparently someone's been following me at night. I'll have to make sure I'm not followed today.

"I understand, Rose," he murmurs, his face the picture of reassurance.

"Good. I'm glad to trust you with this. And do not lose that pendant! If you do nothing else, do not lose that pendant," I continue sternly. I keep remembering new things he needs to hear

"I won't lose it, I promise." Somehow, I trust him. I've only just met him, but the trust bubbles up in me nonetheless.

"Thank you," I say, as if it's that simple. As far as he should be concerned, it _is_ that simple.

"Would you like one more lesson before you go?"

"Darin, it's the middle of the day, a work day. I can't ask you to stop working just for a lesson."

"Very good thing you didn't ask; I offered." Ah, his smirk is back on his face.

"Only if you can convince me it's no trouble."

He smiles, as if he expected something like that from me. "I'll be done within the quarter hour."

"I'll be at the meadow."

We trade smiles and I leave a moment later. I can kill time just relaxing there while I wait. It'll be nice to have just a little bit of time to myself.

As I leave the city, I make good use of every reflective surface there is, just to make sure no one tries to follow me. Perhaps I should have left a note for King Caspian, to tell him the truth. No, Lilia would surely find it, maybe read it if she came inside my house for any reason. She has a curiosity streak that's a little too wide. King Caspian will just have to wonder.

But he offered to help, and surely it'll seem ungrateful of me to disappear into thin air. At the same time, he's sure to have at least a solid guess at where I've gone off to. He's smart; I'm sure he'll figure it out. Once he does, he's stubborn enough to find a way to contact me if he wishes.

Oh bother it all, I suppose I'll have to tell Darin to let the king know about my letter system. Wait, no, then Caspian will know about the spare! I sigh heavily, since no one's around to hear me. I'll just have to write a quick note and give it to Darin to post at the entry tree for the king to see. I'm sure he'll look for me there once he figures out where I am.

By the time I finish running through the details, the quarter hour has slipped by and Darin's approaching with a welcoming smile on his face. A slight one, but there's no mistaking it. It's one I return; I can't really help it. He was born with a contagious smile, too boyish to ignore.

"Ready, Rose?" He unsheathes the dagger he's brought with a glint in his eye to match that of the midday sun on the metal.

"Always." I quickly get to my feet and sink into my stance – the one both Caspian and Darin tried to perfect.

"Have you been practicing?" he asks as he approaches, blade ready.

"A little." It seems like less than a good idea to tell him that I had extra training with the king. I'm not ready for the barrage of questions that might follow that kind of a statement, however flippantly it'd be made.

"Keep practicing then."

I allow myself a brief moment of pride before I settle again. There's no need to get cocky, and it'll do me much more harm than good if I let that sort of mindset in. "I'm ready when you are, Darin," I prod when he doesn't make a move to teach me anything just yet.

"In a few minutes. I think your muscles could still use a bit of memory, don't you?"

I swallow my grumbles of protest and force a nod. My arms will be screaming after this, surely, but it'll be worth it. Tanssi Kuun's worth it. The faeries are worth it. So I bite my impudent tongue and try to think about other things as the minutes drag on.

"What are you thinking of?" Darin whispers at some point.

"Nothing really," I hum back.

"You looked deep in thought."

"I was peaceful, no thought required."

An almost awkward silence falls, and I return to thinking about the dances the faeries have shown me already. It's the best distraction in the world. When Darin releases me from my stock-still pose, I almost laugh that the minutes flew by. However, the moment I move my arms, that comment completely flies from my head.

"So much for peaceful?"

"Do not laugh at me," I growl in reply to Darin's coughs that barely disguise his chuckles.

"I would never-"

"You already are," I point out.

Darin just shakes his head, the picture of innocence, and proceeds with my lesson for the next two hours. I'm sweaty and exhausted, but it's been well worth it. He saw fit to teach a defense maneuver, and even an attacking one as well. They're very basic, but in a pinch they might save a life. Or several.

"Thank you, Darin," I say sincerely as we pack up to go our separate ways. I can't help but think how much in his debt I am. There may be a way to remedy that, now that I think of it.

"It's nothing," he says, shrugging it away.

"Not to me." I give him one of my rare smiles and resolve to take care of at least a small piece of that debt. I can at least pay him for the dagger.

He dips his head with pink on his neck and starts to walk away. I surprise him by walking beside him back toward the city.

"Did you change your mind about leaving?"

"Naturally, no. But I do have to let you know about something. I need your word again, if that's alright."

I explain that I have a good friend who might come looking for me and to whom I'm going to leave a letter attached to the engraved tree. I make him promise to let it be and not read it. There will certainly be nothing that personal in the letter, but once again, I don't want him to find out that I know the king. I don't want to answer the questions, especially because I already tried to answer them for Lilia.

To my pleasant surprise he agrees, though deep in his eyes I can see a little hesitation. Nonetheless, I thank him and hurry inside my house because we've arrived. Suppressing a tell-tale satisfied grin, I grab the small purse of coins I'd set aside for the dagger and hide it in my sleeve. Time to say my goodbyes for a month, and time to repay a little of the debt I owe him.

"I'll miss you," I say as I step back outside to a waiting Darin.

He starts for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the unusual expression of affection. I feel a little bad for using that against him, but at least I really am telling the truth. I'm not lying to get him distracted; I'm simply admitting something.

"Take care of yourself, Rose. You'll have a lot of catching up to do in your training when you return." When he tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear, I seize my chance and lean in for a hug. I'm not in the practice of hugging anything but the faeries, but I need him distracted enough for me to get him the blasted money. I slip it into his pocket with one hand while I distract him by fiddling with the ends of his hair with the other.

My task completed, I release him from the unexpected embrace, burying my satisfaction for another time. I can't have him suspecting, can I? That'd defeat the purpose of slipping him those coins in the first place.

I just smile at the pleased confusion on his face and wave goodbye as I step inside my house. It takes him a moment to walk away, and now that I'm out of sight I indulge in that smirk. Though it was completely uncharacteristic of me to hug him, I can't deny that I enjoyed throwing him off guard.

"Darin, you better not break mytrust," I mutter to the air.

To no one's surprise, the air says nothing back as I hurry around looking for a scrap of parchment and something to write with. I don't often have anything that needs to be written down, so it's the work of more than a few minutes. I itch with impatience the entire time. I don't want to waste a minute of my month-long visit to Tanssi Kuun!

At last the scraggly old feather quill is between my fingertips, and I scrawl out a quick message to King Caspian. It's a courtesy that I somehow don't mind by the end, in spite of my rush. Kings deserve courtesy, don't they? I spend more than a mere moment repeating that and making sure that's the only reason I'm leaving this blasted note. Yes, it is. I nod when I'm satisfied, with both the note and myself.

Fewer than five minutes later, I'm out of the city and walking as quickly as I can without seeming suspicious. I remember to keep a careful eye out for anyone trailing me, an easier task when I walk through the field that separates the city walls from the forest. No one's there, and I'm so certain that I feel safe enough to break into a careful jog. The faeries will be so pleased at the abundance of time we'll have to get to know each other. Aunt would be proud of this, I think.

A sudden thought hits me, so strongly and so suddenly that if it'd been an actual blow I'd be on my seat in the short grass under my feet. Am I protecting Tanssi Kuun for my aunt, or because I truly want to?

A knot instantly forms in my throat, and I swallow several times to try and get rid of it. But it's no use. The idea that I'm doing this only to feel some sense of self-worth is enough to make my stomach churn. I'm not like that, surely I'm not like that…am I? Somehow I notice that I've gone stock still, standing there in the field like a plank planted there. I force myself to move, just in case anyone can see me from the road that leads to the city.

'How odd,' they'd think, 'a girl standing alone in the middle of that meadow. Very peculiar. Do you think she's lost?' And from there it'd be all flurries of concern and 'Miss, are you alright?' and 'Miss, are you lost?' and 'Come now, miss, out of the sun. You really are quite dark enough' from the more matronly ones. All in all, that's the farthest thing I'd like to be doing today. So I move.

My trek to the entry tree suddenly seems longer than it ever has before, and I have to stop and catch my breath from the heavy pack on my shoulder several times. I had to bring enough clothes for a week or so, as well as a bit of food and my writing supplies in case Darin does write to me. It adds up, especially with my wool cloak in there as well. I'm not sure if the nights in Tanssi Kuun are warming or chilling, but I intend to be prepared either way.

Finally, I stumble to the tree, match the pendant, post the note, and mumble "Kuu." The moment I step into the door of light, I wipe all traces of discord from my face. I've got to pull myself together now; I'm here with a job to do, and I'll do it if it's the death of me.

For the first time, I'm greeted by only the still air. The moon's high in the sky, and my heart lifts at the marbled pastels that make it so white. I can't be upset in a place of such beauty. That could be sacrilege, to sully this with a bad mood. I straighten my shoulders and start off into the grass, but not the way my guide's taken me before. I veer off to my left. I'd rather sleep out in the grass than in the forest, though I'm not entirely sure why. I'm fond of this sharp, slightly dangerous grass. I like the raw wildness.

"Rose! Hello!"

I spin on my heel to face the incoming vice-hug I know will be greeting me. My guide does love to squeeze the breath right out of me.

"Hello! I have good news, wonderful news!" I answer quickly, just before their arms and light ribbons encircle me.

They stay still and pull back from the greeting hug to look into my eyes. I stay still and gaze back, making sure I keep my 'walls,' as my teacher called them, down.

"A month? What's a month?" they ask, tipping their head to the side until their ear is almost parallel with the ground.

"It's a measurement of time back in Narnia, and it's a good slot of it as well."

"And you have all of it to spend with us? Here?"

"Every moment," I promise. I can't say anything more because I can't breathe.

Squeezing back as much as can be expected considering my limited supply of oxygen, I feel the happiness radiating off of my guide in waves. They're easily one of my favorite faeries, if one could even have favorites. They all seem so wonderful, but I have spent the most time with my guide. I suppose it's excusable, then, to have favorites while I'm still new here.

"We will teach you so much!" they squeal, the slight gravel in their voice peeking out a bit more than usual.

"And I'll learn everything you wish me to. I want to know everything about all of you, and about this place," I answer honestly. Spending a month here won't even compare to my life in Narnia.

"Where is Caspian?" they ask out of the blue.

"He was…busy?" I offer. What else can I say? That question was not exactly something I could forsee.

"Oh. Will he visit again? He did leave it up to you, you know."

"Oh I know, and I have no shame in admitting that I relish that power."

They look me deeply in the eyes once more, trying to see what my answer is. They'll be disappointed; I have none, because I don't know. I never even thought about bringing King Caspian here again, if I have to be honest about it. I wished only to learn his fighting skills, and that was the extent of my interest and my fondness. I'm not so fond of his skill for reading me, I know that much. Perhaps that's harsh, but I'm too focused on Tanssi Kuun, on the faeries, to think about the Narnian king.

And yet, here I am doing just that. 

My guide seems to find all this in my eyes. "I hope we see him again sometime, Rose."

"Sometime, I promise." They did take a bit of a shine to him, if my memory serves me correctly. Or a lot of a shine, but I don't want to admit that. I still don't entirely trust him; one night couldn't change that, even if he saved my life. It was the honorable thing to do, and I know any Narnian knight would have done the same.

Enough of this, really. I can think on all that later.

More faeries appear out of the grass, and I smile at the welcome. "What shall you teach me first?"


	15. Full of Surprises

**(Darin POV)**

She surprised him today. She still surprises him, even now that he's gotten to know her a little. Darin can't help but admire that.

As he slowly walks back to his shop – is it strange that he's unaffected by the notion of working after sundown, if he took the time to help her? – he can't help but think of that embrace over and over again. Rose was no hugging aficionado; or at least, that was what he'd guessed. She seemed surprisingly comfortable hugging him, even if inexperienced. Her chin had bumped his shoulder before she realized her head was too low and rested the side of her forehead against his shoulder.

Was it wrong of him to wish for a hug like that every day of every week of every month of every year?

She'd run from him if she knew that thought just entered his head, surely. But she would never know unless he turned fool and told her, which he had absolutely no intention of doing. He had only just gotten to befriend her; spoiling that was the last thing on his mind.

How did she do it? She remained guarded, as always, but she exuded such an honesty that he didn't know what to make of it. If he watched her closely, her body language would give away her true feelings on whatever matter he was curious about, but never her words, and almost never her face. Even her eyes seemed cold at times. Darin wonders if that should bother him more than it does, because it really doesn't at all.

He's had to hide himself before; he thinks he understands. She's afraid to be open, vulnerable. He can't say he blames her. Narnia has its flaws, and many of them lay in the Telmarines occupying it. He can't speak too much on that as a Telmarine himself. But he's never been able to quite see his fellow Telmarines as completely in the right. He's known too many harsh and foul ones to hold them in the high regard he perhaps should as a member of the nationality. If he could venture a guess, he'd say she probably has too.

But the rumors have gotten worse, and he keeps finding it more and more difficult to ignore them. He can see no evidence of their truth; but neither can he find concrete evidence of their falsehood. He'd wanted to ask her about them tonight, but alas, things worked out rather differently. What will they say in a month's time? He hoped he wouldn't have even worse questions to ask her. But he has to be sure. Before he allows himself to fall, he has to be sure. Surely she would understand that. She seems fond enough of him. Surely she'll listen, won't she?

Against his will, his mind takes him back to their first lesson with that dagger. Her rather obvious lack of skill with a blade was, admittedly, a little amusing, but that wasn't what had made the memory stick. No, what he could not forget no matter how hard he tried was her dance. He'd thought she could be a dancer from the way her body naturally moved, but she'd surged past all his expectations. The grace in her movements, the sheer love of them, refused to leave him be.

That was it. This was why he's been feeling more drawn to her than ever after her dance; it was honest. Honesty in its purest, yet to him most unexpected form. With her dance, she showed him who she really was. The beauty of that and of her left him spellbound.

But he really shouldn't allow himself to get involved. Not when she confuses him at every turn. At times the confusion outmatches the admiration, though said times are rare. She has a tendency to take him outside his circle of comfort without ever having meant to, and he's sure she's completely unaware of this. He tries to be kind to others, yes, but the innocence she seems to possess brings him to do more for her. He can barely control the impulses, if he can control them at all.

That frightens him.

He'll never admit it, but it does just the same. Darin is not a man to allow his heart to override his cool head. But with her, it seems it can't be helped. That's dangerous. And whether she knows what she's doing or not, her effect remains the same.

So why is it that he only wishes to draw himself closer, when he knows he should put a stop to this, whatever 'this' is? Has his common sense completely flown out of the window? Does it matter?

But Darin knows she's hiding something, and he knows she needed lessons in handling a blade for some important reason. She might come to tell him, in time, but he can't be sure. He can't be sure of anything with her. The uncertainty is exhilarating and terrifying.

Rose simply isn't the kind to do anything traitorous or against the law, is she? He's so sure her reason is a damn good one. So what keeps her from telling him? If it's lack of trust, he can understand a little bit, but what secret could be so bad that she would clam up whenever he even blinked before asking about it?

She's frightened, he realizes. Whatever her secret, it's something she is protecting it like a mother bear her cub. But is it a dangerous secret? A danger to Narnia, to the city, to anyone? He hopes not, he prays not, even though a less than honorable piece of him mutters that if she turns out to be a danger he might find it easier to let the idea of her go. He can't claim to have feelings for her, not yet. But the idea of it, well…he's already there, and has been for some time. And no rumors, however nasty, have managed to change that.

Darin simply doesn't know what to do.

Were he to force or coerce her into telling him her all-important secret, she could well flee from him and never so much as look at him again. Or she could grow to hate him for pulling it out of her; she might grow to blame him. The chances, he reasons, for her to actually be thankful she'd told him are somewhere in the margin of zero and nothing. If she protected this secret so vigilantly, even against a friend, then he can count on a very negative reaction were he to weasel it from her before she's ready to tell him.

He can't do that. More importantly, he won't. He won't risk a blossoming friendship for a secret, not when he can't be absolutely sure whether the secret is completely innocent. It could be something completely safe that she simply has to keep from him, just as it could be something dangerous.

What has she done to him? He almost wonders if she is some sort of sorceress. But he recognizes the musing for its ridiculousness and quickly discards the outlandish theory. She is no more a sorceress than he a mouse. He can only blame this odd turn in himself on his own foolishness.

Why did he suddenly have to think that none of this was foolish?

How she'd laugh at him if she knew his thoughts now.

Darin takes out his frustration on his smithing hammer as soon as he returns to his shop, and soon the pounding of metal drowns his thoughts out. But when the heat of the furnace hits his chest and it reminds him of how warm she felt as she embraced him, he has to put a bit more effort into keeping his mind a blank canvas. He needs to rest. Yes, he needs rest. He needs to rest and forget these silly thoughts. They do him no good.

He finishes his work a little quicker than he thought he could and plods happily from his shop when the sun's only been down for an hour or so. His arms are a bit tense from the more intense work today, but he finds he rather likes the twinge if he moves his shoulder the wrong way. It keeps him grounded, in the here and now, and out of his foolish head.

Just when he's sure he'll be able to rest within moments, he catches sight of a little girl skipping over the street cobblestones and around the lampposts. It's Nina. The girl Rose taught a ditty to, almost a year ago by this time.

Darin has to shake his head to keep from staring at the vibrant little girl. Even then, he can't help but replay the memory in his mind's eye as he slips inside the creaking and splintered door of his abode.

* * *

_A smaller girl no older than twelve tries to sing a popular ditty, though sadly more than a few notes off pitch. Darin starts to chuckle to himself and continue on home, now that the sun'd set, but nearly silent footsteps keep him from hurrying along quite so quickly._

_"_ _Do you like to sing?"_

_Ah, so that's what her voice sounds like. It was a bit lower in pitch than he'd thought it might be, but Darin finds that he doesn't mind that at all. Her voice is pleasing to his ears nonetheless._

_"_ _Very much!" the twelve-year-old girl chirps, face alight with a child's enthusiasm._

_"_ _May I sing with you?" the young woman asks as she kneels next to the short girl._

_"_ _Oh would you? I can't seem to get the tune right, even though my momma tried to teach me. My big brother says I'm a lost cause, but I want to prove him wrong!"_

_From his place across the street, Darin sees a line form on the young woman's forehead as her eyebrows press together. A sore subject, the topic of big brothers? He'd be sure to avoid it._

_"_ _You're very right to do so. What's your name?"_

_"_ _Nina. And who are you?"_

_"_ _Rose."_

_"_ _Like the flower?"_

_The young woman, Rose, laughs a little and nods sheepishly. Why sheepishly?_

_"_ _I suppose so, yes. Though I think my mother wasn't thinking of flowers when I was born."_

_"_ _What was she thinking of then?" Nina questions, her curly-haired head tipping sideways._

_Rose stiffens; he can see her spine go rigid. Another sore spot? Perhaps better to avoid the topic of her family altogether, when he finally got up the nerve to talk to her._

* * *

As the door screeches shut behind him and he stubs his toe on a stray pebble on the floor, enlightenment hits him right in the face.

 _Is her secret a family affair?_ he wonders as he shakes the pain from his foot. Was that why she stiffened when Nina asked about her family, even in so innocent a way?

He'll be sure to look into that. His curiosity is aroused again, in spite of his better judgment's ranting to stop this obsession. Darin thinks back that it's not obsession, it's only slight infatuation. What else could be expected, considering the object of said infatuation?

Yes, that's it, he realizes. He's infatuated. With luck, time will help him be rid of that. Infatuations never last very long, especially not for Darin. His heart will be free in a few months' time.

He wants it to be, doesn't he?

Of course he does, Darin tells himself sternly. Feelings of substance for anyone are dangerous; he learned that lesson the difficult way some time ago. He has no desire to learn it again, and most especially not with Rose. She might grow to be a good friend, a sister-figure perhaps, in time. He can be content with that. Platonic caring, he can do. That's a lot safer. That doesn't unnerve him nearly as much. He can quite easily be her brother.

Can't he?

Why does the idea make his stomach flip over, even if just once? He really needs to straighten himself out.

The next day when he sees a lady dressed in the greenest robes he's ever seen whispering with one of the city's many busybodies, he can't help but listen just a little more closely, out of sheer curiosity. He's not sorry he did; they bring up Rosamar. Why does his heart do that strange squeezing when he hears her name? That has to be the infatuation.

"No, my dear…Beruna? Don't be silly, she…why of course!" The lady in green has a slippery voice that slides right over his nerves. He shivers without knowing why.

"But, Sima…family troubles…?" the busybody whispers back, back hunched to keep her ear as close to the green-robed lady's gossiping mouth as possible.

Were the situation about anyone but Rose, Darin might have been amused at the comedic arc the busybody's neck cranes into. But he can only feel disgust at her appetite for rumors. The woman gobbles up gossip like a starved dog wolfs down scraps in the street thrown from some benevolent's hand.

He keeps from shaking his head and walks on down the street to work. He tries to ignore the small pang of worry in his chest all day. But it remains, stubborn as anything. Would Rose laugh at his worry or comfort it?

He hopes she'd comfort. He's sure she would. He can't help but think he'd like to be comforted, if she was the one doing it. And he is not one to accept comfort; he is the type to hide his pain behind an impenetrable mask. A little like her, now that he thinks of it. Perhaps they really are more alike than he'd first thought. Oddly, the idea comforts him. He can understand her better if they are similar.

But now his curiosity is shifting to concern, as he absently misses the dagger lesson he would have had with her yesterday were she here. Family troubles? Surely she could have told him if it was so...Yet, he knows she isn't the type to confess to that. She seems to be like him in that she hides anything unpleasant in her life. Perhaps, like him, she despises pity.

A light flicks on in Darin's head. Of course! She'd gotten angry when he gave her the dagger and waived the price. He'd seen the telltale spark in her eyes, and the intensity of it had put his hands in the air in a peacemaking gesture. That had insulted her, somehow. It explained the appearance of a purse of coins in his pocket as well. He'd failed to notice it for days, until he heard it jingle as he dressed this morning. He'd been confused then, but now he understood. Rose had put it there. She must have, and he understood why. He also knew that he could not give the money back, not if he wanted to keep the peace.

_Well done, Rose. Well done._

She's done it yet again – surprised him. Will she ever cease to do so? Darin already knows the answer.

No. Of course she won't.


	16. Two Guests More

**(Rose POV)**

Three weeks of perfection and already I wish I never had to go back to Narnia. I've learned so many different ways of dancing I could never hope to name them all. I've learned to write, and to tell stories with words on a page and words on my tongue and even words with my hands. My singing hasn't progressed quite as rapidly, but that's only because I spend the time I should be using to practice my singing to practice dancing. I simply love the latter too much to do otherwise.

But most importantly, I've come to understand and know the faeries on a deeper level than I've known any being in my short life. I continue my lessons with Teacher in learning to see with my heart and not my eyes. My progress is good, or so they tell me. Nothing exceptional, but worthy of a protector. That relieves me. I don't like to stand out, but I do like to be in the happy medium. It's comfortable, and the middle is easy to hide in. I'm fond of neither praise nor criticism.

Here neither one rears its head to embarrass me, and I'm as content as I've ever been. I make sure to practice the things Darin and King Caspian taught me with my dagger every day for at least an hour, and as my third week here nears its close, I find my body is slowly getting accustomed to the strange positioning of my limbs.

I'm a bit surprised that nothing's come from either Darin or Caspian, but I can't deny that I'm glad for it. I appreciate their company, perhaps Darin's more than the king's, yet I've come to love the quiet solitude here. Even when the faeries are all around me, there's a serenity and individuality here that far surpasses the contentment that follows time spent with anyone in Narnia.

I never want to leave.

My guide comes and lies on the ground beside me, now fully recovered from the attack weeks ago, as if they could hear exactly what I was thinking. But I know they don't need to. Understanding surpasses knowledge here.

"I wish you could stay for a lifetime."

"As do I."

My guide and I share a smile before sighing out the regret that accompanies this topic. I understand, when they shift closer until its ever-moving ribbons tickle my bare arm, that they'd go with me back to Narnia if it could. They understand my loneliness there.

I purse my lips together and hold back the tenderness such sentiment stirs in me. Even here, I still have not learned to be vulnerable and completely open. They all accept that, in spite of the pain I know it sometimes causes them. Acceptance accompanies understanding here. I love that perhaps the most about this place.

A sudden flash of panic dissolves the peaceful atmosphere quicker than lightning, and I'm on my feet and running toward the source before I even know why.

"I thought the danger was gone!" my guide exclaims.

"So did I," I holler back as my feet fly over the ground.

We're already too late; I can feel it in my heart, my soul. I think my guide knows it too, but I'm not focused on connecting with them right now. By the time we finally get to the clearing, the older faeries are solemnly staring and sending out waves of sorrow. The force of it almost knocks me to the ground instantly. I clutch desperately at my chest in an attempt to ease the burning ache there. How do they survive sorrow so intense, if all of them share the pain?

"What's happened?" I cry out through gasps of pain, one hand grappling for the hilt of my dagger. In a truly rare moment, they answer me with words.

"It struck a half dozen of us down at once. We are sorry to burden you with this, but we think you must know." They use their ribbons to lead me along gently, the contact almost scorching me. Sorrow burns; I never realized this.

Truly, once I see the horrid sight before me, I fully understand the agony.

There, laid out at the edge of the forest, lie six corpses of faeries, barely recognizable in their deformation. Their ribbons lie dull and wilting on the ground, their natural light gone as if it never existed. I think the worst part is seeing everything under their skin. The skin itself seems to have shrunk and cracked until only rough and scabby patches of it remain, some with pus and blood still seeping from the corners. The muscle and bone lay exposed, the ground stained with the silver blood from their veins. If I was any less shocked I think I might be sobbing, but it's so far from what I could have forseen that I can do nothing but stare and let lonely, salty tears drip down my cheeks one at a time.

"When did this…?" I don't think any of the faeries begrudge my inability to finish a sentence.

"Just moments ago, Protector. It happened quicker than lightning."

"We need to…to…" my guide can't finish either.

"We need to bury them," I finish gently, comforting them as best I am able with an arm around their shoulders.

"The ground has always covered our passed ones with flowering vines, but it has not done so this time."

"Then I will find vines and we will make do as best we can," I reply with surprising firmness. Maybe I am ready to be their Protector after all.

"Thank you, Rose. Thank you," they all chorus, with no other words able to pass through their lips.

"I will find who did this, I promise you. And neither they nor any other will ever dare harm this place again." It's as much a promise to myself as to this land and these faeries.

I feel their concern then, and I have to admit that they're most likely right. "If King Caspian is able, I will ask his help. If he cannot, I have another friend I can yet go to."

They all encircle me with their ribbons, to thank me and to wish me luck. It hardens my resolve not to fail them. In this moment, I know I would do anything to get rid of this evil.

I was looking forward to my last few days here, but after this I know I can't wait even another hour. I have to go back to Narnia, to ask for the king's help and Darin's help. Yes, both will be better. Every person counts, and I'll need someone to help me look for the evil and someone to watch over the faeries. I can switch between the two, but I can't leave them alone now.

"We will bury them now, and as soon as they are paid due respect I'm returning to Narnia. I won't be gone long, only an hour if I can," I say as I try to give feelings of reassurance and love to all of them at once.

"Be careful, please," my guide whispers against my ear.

"The danger is not in Narnia," I reply quietly, touching my forehead to theirs.

At my silent direction, all the faeries but two return to the group, and the others come with me to find a suitable place to bury the passed.

It takes less time than I'd thought. I think we're all relieved to have the painfully unrecognizable corpses under the ground and out of sight.

We trek back to the meadow where all the faeries have gathered now and beckon them to come with us to pay their last respects. No one's yet explained to me how funerals work here, but I have a distinct feeling it's something far more wild and exquisite than I could imagine on my own.

In actuality, it turns out to be quite simple. They all file up to each grave and lay one of the ribbons of light constantly orbiting them on top of the vines woven over the bodies. By the time all of them have done so, the graves are so bright I can barely look at them.

At first they all just seem to stand and wait, but I don't understand why until the lights on each body merge into one blinding beam of white and engulf the grave. A shape floats upward, a shape that can only be the body. Then they begin to sing, a tune so soft and forlorn that my heart can barely stand it without giving out entirely. Tears roll freely down my cheeks as the six pillars of white around the bodies brighten with each note, and then it's over. The light compacts into each body, only to suddenly fade from sight without a trace, leaving behind no evidence that there ever was any body at all.

For a few moments, I can only stare at the empty air in front of me. I have to keep blinking my eyes free of the water rapidly accumulating in them. Logically, it makes no sense, but it was a beautiful goodbye. But after those few moments, I kick into action.

"I'm going back to Narnia now," I announce. "I have to talk to my two friends. At least one of them will be here soon."

They all say their goodbyes without words, and I return the mental gestures before taking off running. I don't have any time to waste.

Luckily for me Tanssi Kuun isn't a remarkably big world, so I'm back in Narnia before I'm utterly out of breath from running. I keep up my torrid pace for another two minutes or so before the stitch in my side is unbearable and I have to slow to a jog. Even then, I push my body's limits. I don't want to leave the faeries unprotected for longer than absolutely necessary. And while I go to the castle and try to get an audience with King Caspian, Darin can go and look after them. Now I understand why there's a spare pendant.

Thankfully, it's getting to be close to sunset here in Narnia, so Darin should be almost done with his work by the time I get to his shop. My mind goes through so many routes as I race out of the forest and towards the city, one of my hands kneading my side to try and make the worsening cramps so away. I can't afford to slow down!

I burst into Darin's shop just as he's putting his tools away and dumping a bucket of water on the fire. He looks up at my commotion and rushes over when he sees my frantic face.

"Rose? What on earth's the matter? You weren't to be back for another few days-"

"Darin, I'm so sorry to ask this of you, but do you remember the pendant I gave you and what I said to do?" He nods, and I rush to continue. "I need you to go to the tree, say 'Kuu,' and go into the door you'll see there. Please Darin, it's very important."

"I'll go immediately Rose, but what's going on?" he asks as he hurries to finish closing.

"Take a sword and dagger at minimum," I tell him as he starts to rush out the door.

He looks at me in confusion, but he does as I say.

"I have to go talk to a friend of mine about that place beyond the door, and I need someone I can trust there to protect the faeries," I explain, still gasping for breath.

"The faeries?"

"They live there, in that place. Oh to Tash with it! There's a whole other world beyond that door, and it's name is Tanssi Kuun and the faeries are in danger and I'm their protector but I need to talk to the king and I need you to go there and make sure they're safe," I blurt out all in one breath.

"The king?" he asks as he quickly finishes cleaning up from the day's work. Somehow, he doesn't look as flabbergasted as I imagined he would.

"I need help training the faeries in combat, and I have to train myself too."

"Do you want me to start training them when I get there?"

Either he's humoring me or he believes me, but if it's the former then he'll figure it out soon enough.

"Yes, thank you, that'd be wonderful! Be careful, and if anything or anyone attacks get them into the forest so they can hide in the trees, okay? They know nothing of fighting or weapons."

"I'll teach them all that I can, alright?"

Is he truly sincere? I search his steady gaze for any sign that he is not, but I only find a vague flicker of...relief? Why?

"Thank you," I gasp out. I can get my answers later.

"Go. I'll meet you there," he says, pulling me into a quick hug as a goodbye.

I return the hug and give him a peck on the cheek before taking off down the street toward the castle. Weaving this way and that to avoid people and children and an overturned cart, I race through the streets like Tash himself is at my heels.

As soon as I arrive at the gate, I tell the guards that I need to see the king right away. Naturally, they're hesitant, but with a few flirty winks that are completely out of character, I get them to let me in. Ah, the advantage of the castle having Telmarine guards.

However, I am stopped in the courtyard by a stern-looking centaur. He introduces himself as Glenstorm, and I have to come up with some excuse and explanation as to who I am. After a few repeated exclamations that I need to see the king because it's very, very urgent and people are in danger, he agrees to take me to him, though on the condition that he goes with me. I agree in a heartbeat and try to take off running, but he only clops along at a steady walk.

"Please, someone could die if we take too long!" I cry as discreetly as possible so I attract as few looks as possible.

That coupled with the nauseated worry in my eyes must convince him, because he passes me at a trot and then I'm the one trying to keep up.

"His Majesty is likely at dinner, Miss Rosamar," he chides.

"He'll understand, just please hurry," I pant, hand still kneading my side.

"Any faster and I fear you will fall behind, my lady."

"I'll run as fast as I have to," I protest, speeding up just to prove my point. Still, I let him lead the way because this castle is a huge labyrinth and I can't afford to get lost; rather, the faeries can't afford for me to get lost. I know Darin's more capable of protecting them than I am, but he's only one person, and if there are too many of this mysterious enemy… I can't let myself finish that thought lest I hyperventilate even more.

At last, we approach two double doors. It's then that I remember why I tried not to make a scene.

"Wait! Perhaps you should go in quietly, and simply tell him that Rosamar requests to see him urgently," I say.

Glenstorm just nods and does as I ask. I'm grateful he doesn't ask why. Maybe he just understands and I'm just frantic enough that he's concerned too. I wait outside impatiently, and it takes all of my will not to pace and wring my hands. How long does it take to say one sentence to the king?

Finally, finally finally finally, King Caspian emerges ahead of Glenstorm, looking both perplexed and mildly annoyed. Annoyed, that is, until he catches sight of me. I must look half mad, because he rushes over asking what in the name of the Lion is the matter.

"Is there someplace private?" I ask, shooting Glenstorm an apologetic glance.

"Come with me," is all he says before thanking Glenstorm and taking off down the hallway with long and powerful strides.

"Thank you, my lord."

"Rose, it's Caspian, remember?"

"Sorry, _Caspian_ ," I say with a roll of my eyes. Now, of all times, he's getting picky about what I call him?

"It's Tanssi Kuun, isn't it?" he asks.

"Why else would I race into your castle while there's still daylight and demand to see you while you were eating dinner?" I retort. "For that matter, why else would I even seek you out?"

"That was cold," he chides, though he sounds more amused than hurt.

"Do I look like I'm feeling warm and fuzzy right now?" I hiss. "And don't call it by name! Someone might hear!"

Before he can say anything back, he leads me inside a room with shelves of books and a desk with a comfortable-looking armchair.

"Please, sit," he says with a gentlemanly air.

"Now is not the time for manners and etiquette!" I cry, my voice higher in pitch than it's been since I was a little girl.

"Shh, Rose, as you've said someone may hear."

I'm about to fire back a retort, but the thought of the faeries and the realization that he's actually being serious get rid of that idea. "Things were fine there for the past three weeks or so, and then something killed a half dozen of the faeries. It was like a sickness, but it was instant. Caspian, it was awful. They were dead in minutes."

"A sickness?" he echoes, clearly not connecting the dots.

"Not like any other! It was not a natural sickness; they don't even have sickness there. No, this was another attack. Just like the forest."

"Forest? What happened in the forest?"

"A massive stretch of it is gone. It happened the same night you were first there."

"You never told me," he says.

"I had no need to. Now I do. I need your help for a few hours, Caspian, if you have the time to give it."

"It is safest for me to go at night, lest my absence go noticed."

"You'll really help?" I ask, incredulous. I was so afraid he'd say he didn't have the time, but I knew I had to ask.

"Of course. You would do the same if our situations were reversed." He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world, and I fling my arms around him in one of my rare hugs.

"Caspian, _thank you_ ," I gasp out.

"What is it you need of me?"

"One of my friends is there already, looking after them while I'm gone and starting their training. I still have to train myself."

"Of course, Rose. And if the need arises, I will help you protect them as well."

"You will?"

The gravity of what he just said flickers at the edges of my remaining rationale, but I quickly decide we can discuss that later. I'm distracted the next moment anyhow - quicker than I can blink, Caspian's swept me into a tight hug and planted a kiss on my hair.

"As I said, you would do no less for me."

"There's something else," I realize aloud.

"You trusted me with the knowledge of that world and your role in it. I wish to protect it with you."

"Did anyone tell you that you have a stunning moral compass?"

"No," he answers, sounding a bit amused.

"Then I'll tell you myself: you do." I squeeze my arms around him a little tighter before letting go. "I need to get back there, but I'll be waiting for you at the tree at midnight."

"I will be there not a minute later than that time."

"Thank you." I turn to go before remembering that I have no idea how to get out of here.

"Follow this hallway until you get to the dining room, then take the first left and the third right after that. You'll be at the main doors."

"Thank you again," I say.

"No, Rose," he replies. "Thank you."

I nod without knowing entirely what he means, and then I'm off again and trying to keep up a steady jog even though my legs and lungs are screaming for a respite. Needless to say, I ignore them. I don't have time for rest, and I probably won't for a while. I don't care.

With that, I have no extra brain to think. I can only push on and pray my legs don't give out. My stomach protests the lack of dinner, but I simply ignore it too. I can eat when I'm back in Tanssi Kuun and ready to train until I can't hold myself off the ground.

When I can't jog another step, I slow to the quickest walk I'm capable of. My impatience grows as the trek to my entry tree seems to grow longer and longer with each step. I'm half mad by the time I get to the edge of the forest. Soon enough, my body's taken in enough air to allow me to at least jog again, and when I get to the tree and stumble into Tanssi Kuun my legs finally give out. I sink to the ground and just focus on getting air into my lungs.

My guide doesn't come to greet me, but that only makes me smile. I can hear Darin in the distance, already teaching them the basics. I'm too grateful to come up with the words to express it, so I settle for crawling toward the sound and gasping in breath after painful breath. I'll have to remember to thank him profusely. Maybe I can get him dinner now.

I nod my head at myself, pleased with the idea. I've no doubt he didn't even grab a bite to eat on the way here. I detour off to the side of the field and grab berries and edible leaves. It's not much, but it'll hold him until the faeries eat their meal.

My breath now approaching normal range, I stand on wobbly legs and rush to the sound of Darin's kind yet firm voice. He gets much more authoritative when teaching. It sounds like he's teaching them close combat. Teaching them last minute resorts, in other words.

It occurs to me that rotating who teaches who might be a really good idea. While Caspian teaches me, Darin can teach the faeries, and then they could switch later. It's always better to have several perspectives, and each of them probably has his own tips and useful advice.

"Hello, Rose!" my guide calls out as I come into view.

Darin turns from his blocking position and holds out his hand to me. I happily walk forward and take it as a wordless sort of hello.

'Thank you,' I mouth.

He dips his head, as if embarrassed. I tip his chin up with my finger and hand him the food I found.

This time, he mouths his thanks and pauses to take a few bites. I offer him the rest, but he shakes his head and points at me. I return the shake, only to have him hold up a leaf to my mouth. With food in such close proximity, my stomach rumbles loud enough for even the faeries a little ways away to hear. A spark of amusement appears in Darin's eye, and I can't help but accept the rest of the food.

"Dinner will be soon," I mutter as my cheeks threaten to turn pink with sheepishness.

"We'll finish the basics first," he says. I give him a one-armed hug as my thanks.

With that, he returns to teaching and I join the semi-circle of faeries to learn myself. I can't learn fast enough.


	17. Doubt and Hope

**(Rose POV)**

After Darin finishes the basics, we all settle down for a very late dinner. When my guide asks after Caspian, I tell her he'll be here around midnight. The faeries that overhear are pleased and they're not shy about letting me feel that.

Dinner passes quickly, but it passes with Darin at my side. I think I'd be half-insane by now if he weren't here to keep me calm and hopeful. Whenever he notices my shoulders hitching up around my ears, he gently lowers them with his hands and whispers it'll be alright.

I barely realize that this is his first time here; he seems right at home. Perhaps that's because we have a job to do, or perhaps it's because he's simply very adaptable, but whatever the reason I appreciate it more than I can communicate to him.

He seems to understand. I love that about him.

"I see why you kept this a secret," he whispers in my ear. His breath sends a shiver down my spine, but a pleasant one.

"I just wanted to protect it. I have to," I answer as I look out at its beauty and the faeries that complete it. The moon will be rising soon.

"Tell me, how did this task come to you?"

"My aunt. She was in the line of protectors, and she passed the pendant to me only two years ago. It has mostly stayed in my family for generations, though sometimes it was given to a close family friend."

"Why did she pass it to you? Was she aging?"

I fiddle with a loose thread on my sleeve. "No, she wasn't too old or sick or anything. She wanted to get me started and teach me all she knew in the years she had left. I thought that would be a decade of learning at least, but…well, that's not how it worked out."

"I'm sorry," he says. Somehow, I didn't have to explain to him. He just knew. Maybe he's known sorrow like that too?

I let my head drop to rest comfortably on his shoulder. "Thank you." I don't let tears drop from my eyes, but I can't stop them from misting a bit. I miss her so much, and I have no idea what I'm doing. I can't help but worry that I'm not going to be able to stop this, in the end.

"You have help, Rose. Don't despair, please," Darin whispers, cheek pressed against my hair.

"I can't afford to," I whisper back. "I can do nothing but try until I can't try any harder."

Darin's hand brushes mine. "Make sure you get your rest, alright? You won't be of any use to them if you're half-asleep."

"I know, I just don't know how much time we have to get ready."

"We could try and figure that out," he says, straightening in his seat and glancing off into the horizon.

I eat the last berry on my plate. "What do you mean?"

"Have you ever seen the attacker?"

"No, never. They or it stay hidden. We only ever see the aftermath."

When Darin's gaze returns to me, I find it alight with determination. "Perhaps it's time welooked for it."

I consider this for a minute or two before nodding. "You're right. I'll go look around first thing in the morning."

"Only after you've gotten some sleep, Rose."

"Yes Father," I grumble, fully intending to sneak off the minute he falls asleep himself.

"And don't think to sneak off," he reprimands with a twinkle in his eye.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I fire back, even as I plot to do just that. I wonder if there's a plant that induces sleep here.

I feel one of the faeries looking at me, and I don't miss the flicker of mischief in their ribbons. Containing my own grin, I ask them with my hands to show me when Darin's not looking. Their ribbons pulse quicker as bright amusement and consent tickle at my heart. I can't quite contain my grin, no matter my efforts.

"Rose?" Darin's voice holds a warning, but it's more playful than serious.

"We can communicate without words, and they were merely giving me encouragement," I answer mildly, kissing his cheek because I know it'll get that silent conversation right out of his mind.

"Ah," is all he can say.

I think he was expecting that kiss on the cheek I gave him before to be a one-time thing that came from stress and not affection. But as little as I want to admit it, I truly am fond of him. I can't take the time to decipher how yet, because this world comes before romance, but it's something I'll be sorting out once Tanssi Kuun is safe.

"Get some sleep now, alright?" he says. "I'll wake you when it's time to go searching."

"I'm okay," I try to insist, even as he gently leads me to a soft patch of moss and folds his jacket into a makeshift pillow for me.

"Sleep now, Rose," he murmurs as he smoothes my hair back.

"I have to meet the king at midnight," I argue.

"I will wake you then. You still have an hour."

An hour wouldn't be enough time to search for this world's unknown enemy anyways. So I grudgingly agree and curl up on the far too thick and comfortable moss bed. It doesn't help that Darin's jacket is warm from being worn recently. Before I know it, I'm gone.

* * *

I'm awoken by a steady shake of my shoulders.

"Wake up, Rose. It's nearly midnight," Darin says near my ear.

I'm so tempted to roll over and ignore him, but Caspian can't get in here without out me. So I force myself to stand and stumble off toward Narnia after thanking Darin for waking me up.

Just as he promised, King Caspian's waiting for me right at the tree.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Always."

With that, we go back through the entry tree. Almost instantly, several faeries swarm to welcome him. I'd thought they were asleep, but apparently not.

"How long are you to stay this time?" one asks.

"Only a day, I fear."

"A full day?" I question. "How did you manage even that?"

"My friends had been urging me to take a weekend to visit the countryside since last month, so I merely agreed to a day trip now."

"Escorts?" I press.

"None," he affirms.

"Good."

No sooner have we finished this exchange than the faeries throw him ribbons. He catches them, but gives them back in a bit of a hurry. "You must train. There will be time for play later," he says, sounding every inch a king.

They obey without question, and I turn to follow them to the meadow that they were learning in earlier. Caspian grabs my forearm before I get three steps.

"No, Rose. You need your rest. I know you've already practiced today. Sleep, and I will teach you in the morning."

"But I'm going out looking for these attackers in the morning," I protest.

"Not alone."

"Regardless, my point still stands."

"You can learn tomorrow night," he insists. I think he may be as stubborn as I am.

"But-"

"Tomorrow, Rose."

"Yes Father," I grouch for the second time tonight.

Caspian rolls his eyes and shoos me toward the patch of moss with my indent still in it.

"I'm going, I'm going!"

He laughs a quiet, reserved laugh before patting my shoulder and starting off after the faeries.

I grudgingly pad over to my moss and curl up again. Darin appears next to me as soon as I've gotten comfortable and sits down.

"In case they attack again," he explains.

"You need sleep as well, Darin," I reply.

"I will get my share," he says with a slightly patronizing tone. I only roll my eyes before sleep overcomes me again.

* * *

When I wake up, the moon is high in the sky and Darin's snoring softly next to me. I'm about to cry that it's an hour before noon and why didn't he wake me, but I realize how tired he must be and say nothing.

My guide flies up beside me as I start off toward the forest.

"Thank you," they say.

I nearly stumble mid-stride. "For what?"

"You had to let go of your pride to ask for help. We are all grateful for what you've done for us, to keep us safe."

"I thought you all preferred to speak without using words," I mumble back, a little embarrassed by the recognition. I didn't like doing it, and given the choice I wouldn't have.

"From you, I learned that sometimes words are just as meaningful. They can say more, sometimes, than just feelings."

I almost ask if we could introduce the system of names to this world, but I bite that back. Tanssi Kuun is wonderful the way it is; I wouldn't want to change it. But my guide picks up on my inquisitive inclination and asks what's on my mind.

"It's…I was only wondering about names and why you don't seem to have them," I finally admit. I'm a little ashamed I never thought to ask that over the previous three weeks.

"We may yet adopt names. They are a way of expressing identity."

I duck my head to hide my embarrassment.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, Rose," they chide. "What do you think my name might be?"

"Bashar," I say without thinking. I'd read the name once in an old folk tale, and it stuck with me.

They come in close until their light ribbons are swirling around me too. "It's a beautiful name, and now it's mine. Thank you."

In a rare, but perhaps not so rare as before now, move, I initiate the hug. I'm pleased that Bashar still emits the same warmth. They're not sick.

"Caspian is over that way," Bashar says, changing the subject a bit abruptly when we end the embrace.

"Why-? Oh."

"I think he's right you should not go alone."

"Remind me to grumble at you for that later," I say with a sigh.

Bashar just shakes their head, throws me a ribbon, and floats away so I can dance and toss it back. Instead, I let it fall from my arm down to Caspian. He wakes with a startled grunt, but soon relaxes when he sees the warmth on his cheek was only a ribbon. He lets it wind around his arm before handing it back to me, and I throw it back to Bashar. They smile before floating off, presumably back to bed.

"Ready?" I ask the stretching Narnian king.

In answer, his stomach growls in sync with mine. "Perhaps breakfast first?" he suggests, voice warbled and rough with lingering sleep.

"Yes, that might be a good idea. We wouldn't want to let them know we're coming," I grumble, more at my stomach than at Caspian.

After foraging for food and finding a fruit-laden tree, we head off toward the north where I remember the forest was burned down to the ground. It's at least someplace to start, though the enemy would be a fool if its base was there.

"Do you think we're even fighting something material?"

Caspian reminds me of the arrow attack, and it's enough proof to keep me quiet. "It must be something with magic, however," he adds.

I slow my stride enough to walk truly side by side. "Magic? Why?"

Caspian shrugs, but I get the sense he knows a thing or two. "The sickness, the forest? They both happened too quickly for it to be anything else."

"But how would evil magic get inside here?" As far as I know, there's only the doorway through the tree, and that shifts.

"Did you ever hear the legend of Narnia's creation and the White Witch's arrival?"

"No," I answer, suddenly curious.

"Two children named Polly and Digory found rings that led to a place with pools that all led to different worlds. They went to Charn, where the White Witch, Jadis, was the queen of the empty world she destroyed with a single word. They accidentally let her into their world, the world of the King and Queens of Old. She wreaked havoc, and they managed to get her into Narnia, which was only just being sung into being by the Great Aslan himself."

"A brief history, that was," I say. But still, I understand the point; it could have been sheer accident that let the evil inside here.

"If you return to the castle with me, you may read the legend. My old professor has it in his library."

"After Tanssi Kuun is out of danger, I will."

It's only after I've answered that I realize exactly what he said. What, precisely, did he mean about returning to the castle with him?

 _Only in the visiting sense_ , I reassure myself even as my insides turn themselves inside out. Of course only in that sense, of course. Just for a visit. I'm almost grateful when we reach the plain of ash, just for the distraction.

Silence falls between us for a little bit as we search for any signs of a malicious presence. I can't find anything, nor can Caspian, for a little while. Then, suddenly, as we're combing through the ash that remains of the burned part of the forest, I hear a muffled noise that sounds a bit like shouting, but not in any tongue I know.

"Caspian, do you hear that?"

He stops, listens, and nods. "The sound is ugly enough to be suspect."

"Yes, but where's it coming from?"

We look around and walk toward it, but we reach a spot where it's loudest and yet can't find the source.

At once Caspian's face lights up, as if he's realized something. He grabs my elbow and silently points at the ground.

I stare at him in confusion before I understand. 'Under the ground?' I mouth.

At his nod, we simultaneously lay down stomach-first on the ground and press our ears against it. I cringe when we have to sweep the ash away from our faces first. The sound gets louder against our ears, but it remains unintelligible and ugly to the ear. Caspian's right; they do sound like evil things.

"We'll have to dig here," I whisper as quietly as I can.

Caspian shakes his head so quickly that ash blows away from the wind he generates. "Not here. We don't know how many they are."

"There's only one way to find out," I argue, struggling to keep my voice to a whisper.

"In any case, we have no shovel. Mark this spot and we'll return to dig around here later, when they've gone."

"So if we hit a tunnel, we'll be able to drop down and sneak around unnoticed?"

Caspian's nod is all the confirmation I need. I don't want to wait, but I can at least see that it's wiser to do so. Even if everything in me is screaming to just dig and kill those vile things, whatever they are, I know that I'll be no good to the faeries if I'm dead.

Since we can't understand them anyway, we stand, brush ourselves off, and head back towards the main clearing where the faeries usually gather. We get back well before sunset, and I remind Caspian of our agreement.

"Teach me, and don't show me any mercy. Train me as if this is wartime," I say sternly.

"It is wartime," comes the sobering answer.

I only nod before getting into the default stance.

Caspian reviews the things I've practiced for the last three weeks quickly, and before I know it he's throwing all sorts of blocks and parries and lunges at me. I can barely keep up, but I force myself to absorb everything. Every piece of information counts, and I'm out of time to learn this leisurely. I can only speed through this, repeat, and pray my muscles have a better memory than my head.

By the time the moon sinks below the horizon, I'm ready to collapse, as is Caspian. We even got to sparring, though it was an easy win for him. I did tell him to do his worst though.

"Dinner?" I murmur, because I can't muster the energy to speak any louder.

"Yes, dinner," he answers wearily, though without as much swaying on his feet.

Just like clockwork, Darin and the faeries approach looking every bit as dead-tired as Caspian and I. I suddenly realize that Darin and Caspian haven't been introduced, so I tug Caspian toward the approaching group.

"Darin, this's Caspian. Caspian, Darin. Friend meet friend," I manage. It's likely the worst introduction I've ever done, but at least they have been introduced now, however horribly it was executed.

They shake hands as if trapped in molasses and I leave them to it while I head off with some of the faeries to gather and prepare dinner.

Bashar's acceptance of a name has given the others some want of their own, and by the time dinner's being passed around, I've named three others Shara, Gathi, and Mesaba. They each preen a bit when I give them names, and soon enough others are thinking up their own and asking me for ideas. I promise to name more of them tomorrow, because I barely have the energy to lift my food to my mouth.

"Get some sleep, Rose. I'll take the first watch," Darin says as I force my eyes to stay open.

"No, you need the rest more," I insist.

"Rose, go and sleep."

When I still protest, Darin literally picks me up and carries me to my moss patch of yesterday, even as I half-heartedly swing at him.

"I'll wake you in a few hours so I can sleep too, alright?" By his tone he's really doing more telling than asking, but I'm half asleep already so I can't do anything but sigh.

* * *

When he wakes me, the bags under his eyes are so dark that I just push him down into the moss without saying anything. He's gone before I even walk two steps away. In my sleepy haze, I remember that I need to wake Caspian for the last watch. He'll be leaving in the morning, so it made sense for him to take the last one.

My watch is uneventful, happily. I take the extra time to practice the many things Caspian taught me today, both to stay awake and to make sure I remember them. Halfway through my turn, Mesaba, my teacher in seeing, rises and joins me.

"We have not danced in too long," they say.

"Let's dance now, then. I'd welcome the change from practicing."

Just like that, we begin. Mesaba flings two ribbons at me, one white and warm and the other silver and cool. Goosebumps pop up on my skin from the conflicting sensations, and I have fun experimenting with a new spin I thought up the other day.

"You have incorporated some of Caspian's style, I see," Mesaba whispers while dancing back-to-back with me.

"I need to practice it. As you can tell, it does not come as easily."

"You improve each time."

"If only swordfighting was so quick to sink into my muscles," I sigh.

"Yes, it is rather different. But your friend Darin is a skilled teacher."

A fond smile makes its way onto my face at the mention of him. "Yes, he is."

"He is very fond of you."

I feel the undertone behind 'fond,' but I don't acknowledge it. I have no time for such things now. "He's a good man," is all I say back.

"And you are fond of him in the same way, Rose. You may not see it, but we do."

"Is it so obvious?" I grumble, my cheeks and ears tinging warm and pink.

"I fear it is. The way you look at each other is far from discreet."

"What? How do I look at him?" I'm startled; I didn't think I looked at him any differently.

I feel Mesaba's amusement, and I let them feel my sheepishness and indignance.

"When you think no one is looking, both of you sneak a special look at one another," Mesaba explains, though it's not really much of an explanation at all.

"What special look, for heaven's sake?" I grumble.

"You look at him as though you admire him more than any other, and he looks at you with a deep and steady affection. But you share mistrust and apprehension, though for very different reasons."

Admiring Darin makes sense; there is much to admire about him. I suppose the mistrust on my end is due to my natural inability to fully trust anyone. It's been a major downfall in my relationships with the faeries more than I'd like to admit. But why would Darin- oh. Perhaps he has been hurt too in his life, or perhaps the rumors that reached Caspian's castle reached his ears as well. If I combine the two, his reservation makes perfect sense.

Mesaba smiles, pleased that I seem to have figured it out. I start to return the gesture, but it freezes on my lips when I get the silent urging to speak with him to advance the state of things between us.

"No!" I shriek.

I clap a hand over my mouth when Caspian groans in his sleep and rolls over. Darin lets out a quick grunt, and I freeze because he's the one I'm more worried about waking up and hearing this conversation. When no one gets up to see what my unintentional shout was about, I breathe a gentle sigh of relief. No need to broadcast my concerns.

"I mean, I don't think that's such a good idea," I whisper to a slightly smirking Mesaba.

"Fear will get you nowhere, Rose."

"This neither the time nor the place for any discussion resembling things of that nature. Pester me about it if you must, but only after we have taken care of Tanssi Kuun." I allow myself a quick glance over at Darin before continuing, ignoring the slight twinge in my heart."This world and everyone in it come before all else. Even him."

Mesaba nods, though their eyes still speak of mischief. It's as good as a promise that they'll not let this rest so easily in a time of peace.

With a start, I jump to face the owner of the hand that lands suddenly on my shoulder. Caspian backs up quickly, hands up in a gesture of peace. I almost smile when I wonder if that's left over from my rather successful pounce on him the first time he followed me to the forest.

"I believe my turn for the watch has arrived?" he whispers in a voice so quiet that I have to strain to understand the words.

"Not for another hour," I finally reply.

"Then may I join you?"

"Can't sleep?" I ask while I pat the ground beside me.

"For most of the night, all was well," is all he says.

I can't help but wonder if my untimely shriek woke him.

"If you have need of rest, I know of a tea that might aid you," Mesaba offers.

Caspian somehow makes the shake of his head look gracious. A king's training, I suppose. "I have only an hour before my watch, if Rose tells me true. I fear any sleeping aid would cause me to sleep straight through it."

Mesaba nods, dips their head in farewell to us both, and floats away to a favorite tree. I'm sorry to see them go. I'll have to ask later why they left King Caspian and I alone together like that.

We sit in silence for at least half of the remaining hour of my watch, though whether it's because there is little to say or there's little we'd like to say, I'm not quite sure.

"Thank you," I finally say, when it's almost time for his watch. At his questioning glance, I have to elaborate. I ignore the churning in my stomach that showing too much emotion tends to create and press on. "For coming to help. I know you are unspeakably busy." The ground under my feet is now the most interesting thing in the world to me.

"No less could I do for a friend," he replies.

I somehow keep myself from jumping in surprise when his hand brushes against mine. I'm about to make the effort to return the gesture, but his hand is gone so quickly that I can't help but wonder if I only imagined the whole thing.

The rest of my watch passes in a silence that manages to be both companionable and slightly uncomfortable. But for some reason, even when the time for Caspian's watch starts, I don't return to my mossy bed.

"Go to bed, Rose. You need your sleep more than any of us," Caspian tells me after another hour passes.

"I'm not tired, oddly."

"Perhaps you will sleep in spite of that when you lie down."

"I'll go in a bit. I'm not done pestering you with my solemn presence yet."

Both of our eyebrows jump at my small attempt at humor. I'm pleasantly shocked when Caspian actually chuckles, albeit quietly. "If you truly wish to pester me, you are doing a rather poor job."

I decide to put some of my lessons with Mesaba to practical use, and I'm surprised for the third time tonight when I find that he actually enjoys my presence. I had an inkling he didn't mind it, but I was not expecting such…fondness? Is that the right word for it?

"I suppose I'll have to think up something then," I finally stutter out, rather uncharacteristically for me. I don't stutter, just like I don't ask for help. What is it about King Caspian that makes me act so contrary to myself?

"It may be more difficult than you think."

I feel the slightest heat rise to my cheeks, though I have no idea why. He's not even looking at me, and his voice was only a few touches closer to affectionate than normal.

"I might just follow your advice about that lying down," I say after a few minutes of a quiet that's just shy of comfortable.

"Sleep well," is all Caspian says, eyes still scanning the surrounding land dutifully.

"Wake me when you leave, so we all can say goodbye."

He nods once, still keeping watch. My gaze lingers on him for just a moment too long for my comfort as I rise and walk back to my mossy patch. I bite my lip in slight annoyance when I remember that I shoved Darin down onto my patch of moss when he came to wake me for my watch. Luckily, it doesn't take me long to find another equally comfortable patch.

The only irksome thing is that Caspian's suggestion holds true; I fall asleep within minutes of lying down.


	18. The Professor's Council

**(Caspian POV)**

Caspian finds himself grateful for the watch; he has many thoughts in need of sorting, and before now he's not had the time to show them that favor.

When Rose came to him in the castle, he'd felt a strange warmth that she came to ask for his help at all. She'd only asked for aid once before, and that had been after he'd pressured her. This time, she had come and asked of her own free will. And he wasn't the only one she'd gone to, apparently. Caspian already holds respect for Darin even after so short a time of knowing him. Rose chooses her friends well. Though if he had been the only person she'd gone to...well, that'd have been alright too. Darin clearly holds feelings of some substance for Rose, much like Caspian himself.

Somewhere in the back of Caspian's mind, something whispers that the note accusing her of treason was one of the best things to happen all year, because it has led him to this tentative friendship he has with her. He is lucky indeed.

Unfortunately, Tanssi Kuun is not so lucky. Some evil is clearly worming its way in, and Caspian can't help but wonder if him and Rose and Darin will be enough to keep it at bay. He'll not be able to voice this concern to her for a little while yet, naturally, but it's there just the same. She won't like hearing that. Yet, as protector of this land, he knows she'll have no choice but to listen to him.

So many things happening at once. Caspian used to think his life before he knew Rose was chaotic. Now? He sometimes wonders if his head might spin itself clean off his weary shoulders. Helping Rose and the faeries is already taking its toll on him, but he wouldn't have it any other way. Even though he's never had quite so much stress, and he was really only prepared to deal with one world at a time, it's all somehow worth the strain.

Now that it's his watch and she's already gone to bed, Caspian feels safe enough looking over at her. He quickly finds that a smile's crept onto his face, but he doesn't stop to wonder why. Why shouldn't he smile? She's a friend, and he admires her. It's as simple as that.

A faint flash off in the distance quickly draws him from his own mind. It's gone as quickly as it came, and something tells him not to dismiss it. He wants to go and investigate, but he knows he can't leave his watch. Another glance at the sleeping protector provides him with a regrettable solution. Caspian's loathe to wake her, because he knows she needs her rest, but there's nothing else to do. Anyhow, she'd be furious if he didn't. So he rises from his perch on the rock and walks over to her already fast-asleep form as quietly as he can. He only hesitates a moment before leaning down and gently shaking her awake.

"What's happened?" she asks immediately, with a voice heavy from the webs of sleep.

"There was a faint flash of light in the distance, near the edge of the forest. I do not think it bodes well," he whispers, all but forgetting that his hand still rests on her shoulder.

"Not again," she murmurs, clearly to her own ears rather than his. In less than a second, she's scrambled to her feet and belted her dagger around her hip. Only Caspian seems to notice how quickly his hand slips from her shoulder.

"This is how it happened before?" he questions as he follows her swift footsteps toward the rock he kept watch from.

"Yes," she answers shortly. "The forest was burned to nothing but a carpet of ash when I arrived."

He wonders why she did not mention the extent of the damage before, but one look at her and he understands. She wanted to handle it on her own, both out of independence and a need for her own closure. Any such blatant destruction of Tanssi Kuun was bound to cause her pain, even if she never admitted it.

"I'm sorry," he finally says, though whether for waking her or for the destruction, he's not entirely sure.

"Stay and keep watch. I'll go," she replies, barely looking at him as she starts off toward where he pointed.

"You could continue the watch and I could investigate," he offers quietly, though he already knows her answer.

As he suspected she would, she shakes her head. "No, you keep watch. If something more happens before I return, wake Darin."

"Are you certain it's wise to pursue this on your own?"

"I don't have a choice. You need to stay and keep watch, and Darin's even more exhausted than I am. Besides, you're King of Narnia. Your life is a bit more valuable than either of ours, especially because you have no heir as of yet."

He hates how casually she says that, as if it doesn't matter. He finds the idea of his life having more value than anyone else's, particularly hers, repulsive, but he can't find the words to tell her this. She's already walking away without a second glance back.

It'll be of little use to follow her, so he does as she asked and continues his watch. When hours pass and she's not yet returned, he begins to worry. And when another faint flash bursts across the horizon very close to where the first on his watch occurred, he knows he can't stay here any longer. With determined strides, he crosses the clearing, wakes Darin and explains all.

"She went alone?" the blacksmith asks incredulously.

Caspian can only nod and look worriedly off at the horizon.

Darin sighs and rubs the last traces of sleep from his eyes. "She'd have it no other way. I'll go after her."

"I understand your concern. However, I was going to ask that you look after things here while I go. As she left under my watch and direction, I feel responsible."

For a moment, it looks as though Darin will argue, but after a moment of tense silence the blacksmith nods and walks to the rock. Caspian calls quick thanks over his shoulder as he bolts off toward where Rose headed.

The run seems to take a lifetime, but at long last he smells the smoke and knows he must be close. He runs for another few minutes before he bursts into a field of ash. Some parts of it still smolder; it's warm even through his boots.

A quick scan of the area shows him no sign of Rose. He scans again, and then once more, just to be certain. He checks his worry and continues into the ashen remains of the forest. Only when he's deep into the soft flakes that now come up to his knees does he hear the faint clangs of swords clashing. Caspian has to bite his tongue to keep from yelling out her name, but he's running toward the sound before he has time to consider any other options. All he knows is that it must be her fighting something evil, and she's had so little training and she's too important to die now.

After long minutes, he finally finds the skirmish. Sure enough there she is, swinging her sword at two grotesque creatures that look to be a sick cross between a human and a goblin of some sort. Even in his panic to protect her, he can't help but admire how well she's absorbed her lessons. And when the tip of her sword nicks one of the creatures in the arm, he finds that she's never been more beautiful than she is now, fierce and unyielding in battle.

Then all thoughts cease as he throws himself into the fray, easily disarming the first creature to attack him and fending the second away from Rose, even though he knows she could likely take it on. He's sure the second will surrender any moment, but a bleat of pain right behind him takes a bit of his focus. He knocks the creature's crude sword away and whirls around to see the tip of Rose's sword poking through the other creature's chest. But there's no time to thank her now; he finishes the second one and only then does he turn to face her.

"Why did you follow me?" she asks, before he can say 'thank you.'

"You were gone for hours, and there was another flash close by."

"Oh."

He knows she's quite taciturn, but somehow her brusqueness hurts a bit this time.

"You left your watch?"

"I awoke Darin. He agreed to take over while I went after you." Caspian can't look at her as he sheathes his sword. She doesn't look at him either, from what he can tell.

"Thanks."

She still won't meet his eyes, even when he looks at her to see if she's angry or simply indifferent. No, not indifferent; but she would have him believe so.

He swallows whatever he was going to say and quietly leans down to examine the now-dead creatures.

"Are they similar to any Narnian creature?" she asks.

"Not in appearance, though their stench is similar to that of the Goblins. I have not seen their likeness before."

"Perfect," she sighs.

He doesn't know what to tell her.

"There's nothing for it. We should return to the faeries. It's almost dawn anyhow, and you've got to get back to Narnia." She takes one last look at the creatures that so clearly don't belong in so pure a land and marches off, as determined and composed as ever.

Caspian knows to keep his silence. Nothing he can say will ease her troubles, and now is not the time to mention his worries regarding their ability to stop Tanssi Kuun's destruction.

When they finally return to the clearing near the edge of the forest, the moon has just started to peek over the horizon. Caspian wants to stay and watch the moonrise, but he knows he'll be missed if he stays any longer. He'll be lucky to arrive inconspicuously as it is.

"I apologize, Rose, but I must leave you now. I will return in a few days."

"I'll be back in Narnia in a few days' time. If you wish to join up with me at the wool shop, you may. Otherwise I'll be ready for you at the tree every night at midnight starting three days from now."

He nods once and politely takes his leave of them. A barely-audible sigh of relief whooshes from Caspian's lips when Darin indicates that he'll be here with Rose while Caspian's gone. She can handle things on her own, but neither of them want it to be necessary.

The whole walk back from the entry tree, all Caspian can think of is how he can help Rose without letting his country down. And the moment he steps foot back in Narnia, that question burns at his mind until his forehead feels as though it's being crushed under a Minotaur's hoof. For the time he spends in Tanssi Kuun, he can almost forget his other responsibilities, can almost pretend his life could be simple and uncomplicated. Then he returns to Narnia and to his life as king. Caspian wouldn't give up his position, but he's found that even after merely two visits to Rose's world, he misses it when he's not there. He misses the peaceable freedom, the simplicity.

And yet Caspian knows that he simply can't afford to do this; he can't go pining away after some world other than Narnia, not when he has to try so very hard as it is to keep the country united and peaceful. Moreover, he'd just gotten news of the Northern giants stirring up trouble the previous morning, and there's a good chance he'll be going up there with an army to try and put out the encroachment soon.

Strange, that his first thought is if he goes off to war he won't see Tanssi Kuun for a while. More specifically, he won't see Rose for quite a while. Why in the Lion's name does that bother him so much? He hasn't known her _that_ long. Caspian makes a point of ignoring any other musings like that the rest of the way back to the castle.

Just as the sun is rising, he makes it to the front gates. The guards look more curious than he'd like, raising their eyebrows not-so-discreetly at his dirtied clothes and the bags under his eyes. Caspian wants to tell them to please mind their business for goodness' sake, but the words die on his tongue when he realizes that such a comment would only worsen the curiosity. So instead he nods once and strides past them, making a note to bring Destrier the next time. His horse is large and intimidating; no one will question him so openly if he rides up on the black steed.

As he enters the Telmarine castle, Caspian wants nothing more than to talk to Professor Cornelius again, just to try and get his bearings. He doesn't want to admit it, but half his mind is still with Rose. He can't get the picture of her wielding that sword so gracefully out of his head.

Without another thought, Caspian makes for the library. The servants he passes in the hallway notice his slightly disheveled state, though they're more discreet than the guards were. Still Caspian makes a note of this, if only to remind himself what he must try to avoid when next he spends so much time in Tanssi Kuun.

By this time, Caspian has arrived at his old Professor's haven of books. Without thinking, he strides in, dodging scrolls that have spilled from the table onto the floor.

"Professor!" he calls, bending down to pick up the scrolls as he looks for the old man. The task is easier now than it was last he visited; the Professor's cleaning endeavor has certainly made great strides, though some haphazard stacks of tomes remain still.

A crash instantly sounds from a far corner of the room, and a resounding "By the Lion!" quickly follows. Caspian winces; he forgot to knock.

The Professor appears from behind one of the stacks with his spectacles askew and his hand over his heart. "My dear boy, you've forgotten to knock," the elderly scholar chides.

"I'm sorry Professor, I…" Caspian trails off, suddenly unsure what exactly his excuse is.

At once, Professor Cornelius smirks under his beard and his eyes get those merry little creases at the corners.

"Professor," Caspian starts, though they both know the warning is less than half-hearted. "Stop that."

"Stop what, my lord?" the Professor replies, still smiling that almost-infuriating smirk.

"It's not about Rose."

The instant Caspian says that he knows it's not true, and the Professor knows it too. But the old man just smiles a little wider and gestures to the armchairs behind the scroll-strewn desk. Caspian doesn't hesitate a single second before plopping down and enjoying the rare occasion of being permitted to slump in his seat.

"Ah, so Rosamar is now simply Rose. Very intriguing, very intriguing indeed." Professor Cornelius's smile grows even more, if such a thing were possible.

"You take entirely too much delight in teasing me, Professor." Caspian tries to sound serious but fails quite miserably indeed; a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth before he even gets to the third word. By the end of the attempted rebuke, both the king and the professor are grinning widely with mischief twinkling in the latter's eye.

The two indulge in a brief moment of laughter before the Professor sobers and crosses his hands over his belly. "But in all seriousness my boy, what troubles you?"

Caspian hesitates; he's not spoken of Rose and her secret yet, and he isn't sure how much he should say.

"Begin with the most uplifting news, and then proceed to the difficulty," Professor Cornelius gently prompts, eyes peeking out from over his spectacles.

"Rose is no threat," Caspian instantly replies, allowing himself a relieved smile. "Well, she can be threatening when she wishes to be, but I have nothing to fear from her."

"Yet you had something to fear hitherto?" Professor Cornelius is either teasing him again or genuinely confused. But the spark of joviality behind his spectacles gives him away.

"Only when I became a threat to something very precious to her. Quite on accident, of course."

The Professor raises his bushy eyebrows at that and adjusts his hands.

"I'm afraid I can't say precisely what I inadvertently threatened; it is Rose's secret, and she has not given me permission to share it." Caspian starts to continue on, but the twinkle in his professor's eye has him pursing his lips in mock annoyance. "Professor," he starts to say, even as another smile tugs at his mouth.

"Go on, my boy."

This time, Caspian ignores the lingering hint of mischief in the scholar's eye in favor of finishing the somewhat fantastic tale. "In short, we've become…that is, we are…"

"Friends?" Professor Cornelius finishes, his mustache twitching with merriment.

Caspian nods, keenly aware that he's oddly embarrassed. Why should talking about Rose and their friendship make his face heat up? The last time he felt like this was…well, it was Queen Susan. The only comfort Caspian can claim is that with Susan his heart would sometimes skip a beat, or he'd forget to breathe, or his tongue would get tied up in knots. He never has those problems with Rose, thank the Lion.

"And what is it that troubles you, then?"

"She needs my help, Professor, more than I suspect she will ever admit. And I want to help her, I truly do, it's just that…well, I have duties as a king too, and I'm a bit afraid that I'll soon have to choose between letting her down or letting Narnia down." Caspian finishes in a rush, uncomfortable at this admission even though he knows he can tell his childhood professor anything in the world.

"You would help Rosamar at the expense of your country?" Professor Cornelius sounds incredulous, and yet he somehow manages to not sound disappointed.

"No!" Caspian almost shouts his denial, but the Professor cocks an eyebrow as soon as Caspian's voice dies down.

A heavy silence falls between the two. Caspian alternates looking at his shoes and looking at his former professor, and Cornelius looks pensively at the king, noting with interest how his shoulders slump after his spirited negation.

The silence is broken by a whisper from Caspian's lips, a whisper that he almost takes back but can't quite bring himself to do so. But even so, shame weighs down his shoulders and his chin.

"Perhaps."


	19. An Awkward Brush

**(Rose POV)**

With more and more of the forest burned to ash, my worry threatens to spiral. The attacks on this world keep coming faster and stronger, and I can't help but agonize that even Caspian and Darin and myself won't be enough to stop it. The faeries are learning to fight, but they're even more out of their element than I am. I think we all know they won't stand much of a chance against a true army right now, if it comes to that. And every time I think of what's ahead, my stomach churns a bit more.

Aunt wouldn't have given me a task I couldn't fulfill, but maybe even she would falter in this. As far as I know, this is the first infiltration of evil in this place in all of its history. Granted, Tanssi Kuun is a bit younger than Narnia, but still.

"Will you be training with the faeries this morning?"

I turn to face Darin, happy for the distraction from my gloomy and decidedly unhelpful thoughts. "I think that's best. You and I can continue my individual training after midday meal, if we have the energy."

Darin nods and helps me to my feet. After Caspian left for Narnia, we all sat and watched the moonrise from our sleeping places; Darin and I perched on the watch rock. I'm grateful for his steadying hand on my back, even though I usually would balk at any such gesture.

"I cannot promise all will be well, but I promise I'll give you and this world my best so all will be as close to well as possible."

"Thank you." I dust a quick peck on his cheek, another gesture completely unlike me even though I've given this to him before. We trade companionable smiles before we focus ourselves on training and teaching.

The first half of the day goes by as monotonously as expected, perhaps even more so. Darin teaches wonderfully, especially considering how many he has to teach, but he does ask me to drill half of the faeries while he adds to the other half's repertoire. I almost balk until I see the exhaustion he's fighting so hard to hide. Swallowing my insecurity and doubt, I do as he asks without a single word of question. He's doing so much; if this lightens the load on him, so be it. After a rough start, I adapt to becoming the instructor rather than the pupil and before long I'm drilling my group rather smoothly. I'd feel proud of myself, if I had the mental energy to devote to it.

"Do you think we'll be ready in time?" one of the faeries yet to choose their name whispers to me when I'm correcting one of theirlunges.

"We'll be as ready as we can be, and beyond that we can do nothing but pray." I try to convey confidence, but from my lessons in seeing I only half succeed. I think my fear of failure taints my attempts at gifting bravery.

When Darin comes over to switch groups with me, I smile for his benefit. He returns the gesture, though I can tell he's as worried as I. It lifts my spirits enough to allow me the same determination I had with the first group. A few more faeries ask me if I think the training will be enough, and I tell each and every one that it'll have to be. I can't tell them for sure that it will be, not in good conscience.

Every single one of us is relieved beyond belief when the time for midday meal comes around. No one even bothers to mention exhaustion, and we say very little to each other. I try to help prepare the meal, but the faeries doing so shoo me away with instructions to rest and thank Darin for his help. I do so by holding his hand for a few minutes rather than with words. Words can become cheap with too much use.

Something warm stirs in me when he doesn't let go. He doesn't meet my eyes, but I feel his gaze shifting toward me. We only let go because we need our hands to eat. I pretend not to notice Mesaba's smirk.

"How long do you believe we have to train?" Bashar, my guide, whispers to me when we've finished and everyone's starting to wash dishes.

"Long enough. We've made good progress." I don't know if that's entirely true, but it'll have to do. I don't have it in me to dance around the truth anymore.

My guide seems to understand, as do all the faeries. No one, save Darin, approach me and my somber face until it's time to start training again.

"You and I will train now. They will drill and review today's work."

I nod and start off toward the training area Caspian and I first began in. Darin pushes me until my knees give out from under me and I sink unceremoniously to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I can't…I can't…" I wheeze out labored breaths, my arms shaking just from holding my upper body off the ground.

"I know you're ready to drop Rose, but listen to me. This is not your breaking point, understand?"

I can only blink at the ground as Darin's warm hand rests comfortingly on my quaking shoulder.

"If you can find the will to push through this, you will find the strength you don't even know you possess."

I'd stare at him incredulously, if I could lift my head enough.

"Get up, Rose."

My arms tremble a bit more in response.

"Rose. Get up." Darin's voice shifts from loving encouragement to hard and commanding.

"I can't…" I whisper, more to the leaves under my palms than the man above me ordering me to stand.

"You can, and that is the only reason I ask this of you." His voice softens once more. "Trust me."

My chest heaves in a great breath as I prepare for what I know I have to do.

"Rose. Get. Up."

I grit my teeth and push against the ground with every ounce of strength left in my body. My arms respond by giving out and letting my face fall to the ground.

A warm hand returns to my shoulder.

"We both know you can't do it just for you. Think of the faeries, Rose. Think of your aunt. What would she have you do?"

She'd have me get up, I know she would. But I can't.

No. I can.

All in one breathtaking moment, a long dormant defiance bubbles to the surface. I won't accept this failure.

With a will I wasn't sure I had left in me, I force my arms to steady enough to push me up from the ground. Inch by inch, I pick myself up until I'm on my knees upright, staring down at my shaking hands and commanding them to grasp the hilt of my sword. I can't stop now; it's not even my choice. I swore to protect this world, didn't I?

Didn't I?

With a grunt of pain I crawl to my feet, ignoring the weakness in my knees and straightening my legs until I'm standing tall and defiant in front of my teacher.

Darin smiles like he's never been more proud of anyone, and I find enough strength in my legs to bend down and pick up the sword I dropped when I got to my feet. My fingers squeeze the hilt like it's a lifeline and the metal thing rattles in my hand, but I don't drop it. Before I even realize it, I've lifted it to a sparring position.

"Your stance, Rose," Darin reminds me in a whisper.

I slide my feet to their positions and adjust my weight until Darin nods.

When he makes the first lunge, I almost drop my sword again. He stops to give me a moment to gather my strength, but I shake my head and swing my sword at him. He bats it away easily, so I try again. After two more attacks, I know I can't do anything but defend myself now. And somehow, by some miracle of Aslan, I do.

Darin lunges and parries and dances around me like an enemy would, yet I manage to keep his blade at bay the entire time. We spar for what could be hours to my body, and still I refuse to give up. I took the time to get up; I can't accept defeat now.

But my strength is fast waning again, and in no more than two moves, Darin knocks my sword from my grasp. A strangled cry of desperation erupts from my hitherto silent throat. I stop thinking and only act. In a last attempt to salvage this, I dive for my sword, narrowly missing Darin's flashing blade in the process. I thank Caspian's dancing style for putting more power behind my movements; I only have to leap for the sword once and then my fingers close around the hilt.

Darin's sword rushes at me, and I roll to the side, heart pounding when the metal blade plunges into the ground inches from my side.

I don't think, I just do. And right now, that means I roll back toward the blade in the grass next to me and swing my own sword at it with all my might. Imagine my surprise when Darin's sword flies to the side and out of his hands. I'm up from the ground quicker than I thought possible with my sword right against his throat.

He puts his hands up in surrender with a smile brighter than the faeries' lights. "Well done."

"Did I just…?"

At Darin's nod, my sword thumps to the ground from my spent fingers. A moment later I'm on my knees and crying with joy.

"You see? You can never know your own strength until you need it desperately." The return of his hand to my shoulder brings a fresh round of happy tears, though I'm not entirely sure why.

A watery glance up at the sky shows me that the moon's about to set. Somehow, some way, I've made it through an entire day of training and nothing else. I kneel and weep silently for a few minutes more before rising and walking back to the clearing with my head held a little higher than it was when I set out this morning. I think I found a bit of the protector my aunt saw when she chose me so long ago.

"She is proud," Mesaba murmurs to me as I stride past. I need only nod and smile; my heart will tell them the rest.

"We all are," Darin whispers when we're a little ways off.

"I couldn't have done that without you," I say honestly. "Truly, thank you."

He looks away to the side, his neck turning a curious shade of pink. I grin and move to plant another of my now not so uncharacteristic kisses on his cheek. And naturally, fate chooses this moment to embarrass me horribly.

As I move to his cheek, Darin moves his head to look back at me, and instead of connecting with his cheek, I find that my lips connect with his mouth.

I jerk my head backwards, hand over my mouth in horror. What have I done? Ruined a wonderful friendship, no doubt. On complete accident to boot!

"I-I'm so sorry, really, it was an accident, I didn't mean to-"

A sudden pressure on my mouth hushes me in mid sentence, and it takes me an extra moment to understand that Darin's the one silencing me. With his lips. The ones I so accidentally kissed.

It only lasts a moment or two, but when he pulls away I know that both our faces are red. No matter; it probably looks better on his skin than pink.

It takes real restraint to keep from smacking my own head.

Darin suddenly seems to find the trees beyond fascinating, and I'm busy admiring the ground under my toes. This is how Bashar finds us, undoubtedly red in the face and staring at the scenery to avoid looking at each other. One moment and I know she knows. Of course.

"Dinner is ready," she says quietly, kindly refraining from asking what's wrong.

I keep my head pointed down and follow the faerie back to the main gathering. Darin follows, but neither he nor I say a single word to each other. I'm not sure about him, but I'm too embarrassed to say a single thing. What exactly just happened? I don't think I even want to stop to ponder it.

Dinner progresses in relative quiet, though I happily chat with some of the faeries. They miss dancing, just as I do. But we're all so tired that we can barely sit up straight, let alone dance. I promise them we can do so in the morning when we wake. Instead, we sing, even though our voices are far from their best. But it's something.

After our song, even though it's still early in the evening, it's clear we could all use the extra sleep. So that's what we do. Darin and I don't say anything, not even a goodnight. I'm still too embarrassed, and I can only guess that he is too. Maybe it'll all be better in the morning. I'm not so foolish that I expect this, but it's still a nice hope to go to sleep with.

Of course, when morning comes and I kick myself for forgetting all about the watch, things feel even worse than before. I shoot upright, only to see a familiar figure hunched and sitting on the rock we all take watches from. I pad over as quietly as I can, pray for a bit of courage, and touch his shoulder to let him know I'm here.

He spins around, promptly turns about five consecutive shades of scarlet, and looks down at his feet.

"Did you stay up all night?"

"You were more exhausted than I."

A reprimand grows on my tongue, but I bite it back. It won't help things right now. "Next time, could you please wake me halfway through the night? I feel bad if I don't take the watch at all."

"There was no need."

I don't indulge in the sigh that I want to. "Need or not, for my sake?"

He nods, once, short and brusque and cold and completely unlike him. It makes me want to talk about last night just to get it out of the way, but I know now's not the time.

"You should probably get some sleep now," I say after a few moments.

"I'm alright."

"Darin, you have to train a few hundred faeries. Go."

For a few moments, it looks like he's just going to sit there and ignore me, but he finally gets up, though without giving me a second glance. Is he angry? Or simply embarrassed like me?

As I sit and keep watch for the remaining hours until midmorning, I can't help but wonder what's to be done about this. This isn't the time for a spat, not now when Tanssi Kuun needs all of us at our best. I don't want something so petty as a simple mistake get in the way of a friendship or my duties. I can let it go if he can. I'd be content to pretend it never even happened, for heaven's sake!

"What troubles you?"

I almost let out a yell when Bashar's voice comes out of nowhere right next to my ear.

"Bashar! You frightened me!"

"Shh, lest you wake everyone."

I frown a bit, but all in good humor. A smile hesitantly makes its way onto my face when I feel one of their ribbons wind around my shoulders.

"You promised we could dance in the morning?"

"I did."

Without any more words, I let Bashar, my guide still, pull me to my feet and start me on a dance so light and airy that I feel weightless at once. We brush over the ground so quickly and quietly that I almost forget there's a ground at all. This, this is what I've missed since the turmoil began – these sweet and simple moments where nothing else exists but a dance and the stars to guide it. This is what Tanssi Kuun is made for.

Bashar tosses ribbons to me two at a time and I toss them back just as quickly until they make a glowing web between us. For these precious moments, I can forget that we're all preparing for a battle we're not very sure we can win, forget that Darin and I will have to go our separate ways now, forget that nothing is as good as it could be, as it should be.

"Sometimes," Bashar whispers as we dance, "it is good to forget."

In reply I leap especially far and start spinning the moment I land. It feels as though if I keep spinning, I can spin away all of Tanssi Kuun's troubles, and perhaps my own too.

Bashar and I dance and dance and dance, until the moon is high in the sky and it's clearly approaching noon. By now, the faeries have slowly begun to wake up. I pretend not to notice Darin fixing those who are awake the morning meal. And when he glances over at me, I act as though I never even notice. It's just easier that way.

That day, we train as we have been but Darin doesn't speak to me, nor I to him, when it's just the two of us. He corrects me when needed, and we spar until I fall to the ground in exhaustion again. This time, he doesn't push me to get up. I try anyway, and get to my feet after several minutes of struggling. Darin doesn't look at me very much. I shouldn't have gotten so used to the easy teasing between us; I knew I shouldn't have. I don't have the time to miss that now. The day ends the same as it began, with silence between the two of us and sympathetic looks from the faeries. The next day is no better, and I find myself looking forward to Caspian's arrival.

The thought alone makes me want to smack my head into the nearest tree. I've never needed anyone before, and I certainly don't need anyone now. I've asked Darin and Caspian here to help Tanssi Kuun, but in any other scenario I would have no need of either of them.

What irks me the most is that no, I don't need them, but somehow I want them: their company, their smiles, whatever it is!

All I need to do is forget about friendship, and put all of my focus into the faeries. It's what I should have been doing all along, anyway.


	20. Voices from Below

**(Darin POV)**

He had known all along not to push too fast with Rose. He'd known from the start to let things move slowly, no matter how much he wanted to do just the opposite. And he'd been doing so well too! Then that damned kiss had come along and ruined everything.

The worst part was that he couldn't even blame Rose for it; the blame rested squarely on his own shoulders. She hadn't meant to, he knows that. He'd known she didn't mean to in that fateful moment, yet he'd chosen to silence her apologies with a kiss instead of reassuring words. Part of that could certainly be that he didn't think she would listen to words of comfort, no matter how sincere they were. But most of that awful decision was because he had the ridiculous notion that it might be okay, and he'd wanted to kiss her so much that he'd believed that idea for just one moment too long. Now she wasn't speaking to him, he wasn't speaking to her, and he was sure they wouldn't speak again for a while, not with the embarrassment so palpably in the air.

He'd tried so hard not to mess things up with her, and yet he'd managed to do just that.

Darin tries to act normal during training that day, but it's hard. Rose only looks at him if it's absolutely necessary, and even then it's not longer than a full second. He wonders for just a half-second if trying to talk to her about it would perhaps help the situation. Amazingly, he even works up the nerve to start to ask if she'd like to just talk it over, so it's not hanging over their heads. But the moment he says her name, she looks away and murmurs that they should get back to training.

And so they train. Darin trains Rose and the faeries in shifts, trains until he thinks if he even hears the word again he'll throw something at whoever says it. Rose gradually stops looking away whenever he tries to meet her eye, though she never does anything more to reassure him. In truth, he'd like to reassure _her_ , but she won't let him.

That night, at dinner, he tries one last time to smooth the waters. Rose visibly stiffens when he first addresses her, but to her credit she doesn't cut him off like she was doing all morning and afternoon.

"What happened, out at the forest?" Darin says, hoping that the subject will be enough to placate her. Even if they never speak of what happened between them again, as long as they're speaking Darin thinks he won't mind all that much.

"Something burned it to ashes. This is the second time it's happened." Rose replies almost easily, as if talking of Tanssi Kuun's troubles is infinitely less troubling to talk about than their mistake the other night.

"And we know nothing of who did such a thing?"

Rose shakes her head, and looks at him for the first time in two days of her own accord. "I fought off two creatures there two nights ago, but I'm not sure what they were. King Caspian said they seemed similar to goblins."

The casual mention of King Caspian makes Darin squirm a little inside. He respects the King of Narnia, but at the moment he envies him almost too much to bear. He wishes Rose was that comfortable with him right now, rather than the king.

"But not goblins entirely?" Darin wonders if he sounds more like an interrogator than a friend, but the conversation, the first real one in two days, is going so well that he's not about to change his strategy.

"No." Rose falls silent again, and Darin feels just as uncomfortable as before he struck up the conversation. Should he ask her something else, or simply let the admittedly awkward silence pervade the night as before?

"I think I'll go and find them tonight," Rose says quietly.

At first, Darin's so shocked she actually spoke freely that he doesn't process what she said until he's in the middle of nodding his agreement.

"You weren't planning on going alone?" Darin asks. From her tone it sounds like she was, but surely she knows better.

"What's wrong with that?" she returns, eyes flashing in what he guesses to be annoyance.

"It's not safe. None of us know what's out there or what those things are." Darin wants to stop talking altogether, but he can't in good conscience let her go venturing out to find the attackers on her own. Just because she'd done so before did not mean she should do so again.

"That's my point, someone has to find out what we're up against." Rose is still staring him down, and her voice suggests that she's only just barely holding onto her patience.

"Rose, I'm not saying no one should go," Darin begins. He's hoping to placate her enough that she'll listen to his alternate proposal. "But at least let me go with you."

She's shaking her head before he's even finished. "Someone has to stay here and look after the faeries."

"Then wait until King Caspian arrives, and then we can go wherever you like." Darin's trying his very best to keep from angering her, but for all his efforts her eyes still flash that emotion.

"I don't need a babysitter, Darin. I can take care of myself well enough."

"I know!" He winces; he hadn't meant to raise his voice. "I know you can, but that doesn't mean no one will worry."

Rose quiets for a moment, and Darin thanks the heavens she's at least considering what he's said.

"I'll wait until the king gets back, unless something else happens. Alright?" She sounds nothing short of exasperated, but for the moment he doesn't much care. If she'll be just a little safer, he's fine with her being a bit put out with him for a little while.

"Alright." Even if it's technically a compromise with Rose's caveat, Darin is relieved enough that he won't push the issue.

Rose falls silent again, and it's as prickly a silence as before. She's clearly displeased at having to wait, but King Caspian is supposed to arrive tonight or tomorrow so perhaps she'll be less annoyed as time goes on.

"You haven't gone back to Narnia for days," Rose says quietly. It almost sounds like a question, with how her voice dips at the end.

"Would you have me go?" Darin's holding his breath, hoping against all hope that she isn't trying to send him away.

"It's not that," she explains with a tiny shake of her head. "I just wondered if you'd be missed."

Darin shakes his head. He isn't known for his abundance of friends in Telmara. His time to enjoy having friends died some time ago. "I think not."

"It's best if people do not have cause to ask questions. Are you certain?"

Now he's not sure if she wants him to go or if she's simply concerned about being discovered. He can't say, and that makes him shift a little in his seat. "I'm certain," he says. If she wants him to go, she'll say something to that effect soon. He waits for the inevitable, waits and waits until the silence is louder than any words they've said.

The inevitable never comes.

"Alright." That one word is her only reply, but somehow Darin finds that more reassuring than anything else she could have said.

* * *

As the night wears on and the time for first watch comes around, Rose seems to soften. She still doesn't speak much, but her demeanor seems less cold than before. And when he tells her he can take the first watch, she doesn't protest. Yes, she's slowly forgiving him. Though if Darin had to guess, he'd say that the taller order is for her to forgive herself. He doesn't blame her for it, it was an accident after all, but she probably blames herself if she's anything like him. He suspects she is.

The watch begins peacefully; he's joined by one of the faeries a few minutes in, a faerie that introduces itself as Bashar.

"We haven't yet met," Bashar tells him with a gentle, glowing smile that he can barely see through the ribbons swirling around.

"Darin," he says simply, smiling and accepting the offered hand.

"Yes, I know. Rose spoke of you."

Darin hopes that Rose said good things.

"Is everything alright? You've both been distant recently," the faerie continues, looking at him knowingly.

"It was just a simple mistake." Darin knows Bashar means well, but he's not accustomed to speaking of his troubles, and especially not to people he's just officially met moments ago.

"Do you think Rose sees it as such?"

"I expect so. Why else would she not speak to me for almost two days?" Darin didn't mean for that to come out so sarcastic, and he feels a little sorry for it. He opens his mouth to apologize, but the faerie stops him.

"You are frustrated. Frustrated and forgiven," Bashar finishes with a grin on its face.

Darin sits quietly for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. "Do you think she will forgive me?"

That was not supposed to slip out. Darin almost takes it back, but a tickling, glowing warmth on his hand keeps him from doing so.

"As you suspect, the challenge is to forgive herself." Bashar pauses, as if to allow this information to sink in, before continuing. "She is much like you; she is guarded, and she is not used to affection. But given time, I think you will grow closer to each other, not farther."

"Thank you." Darin means that. Even if the faerie didn't necessarily tell him anything he hadn't already guessed, the reassurance calmed his thoughts quicker than he'd expected.

"The night watch can be lonely. Would you like some company?" Darin is unused to company, and he often would rather not have it. But tonight, sitting silently with one of the faeries sounds nice, and so he pats the mossy space next to him.

They sit together on the watching rock in a comfortable silence. Sometimes, one of them will say something, and the other will respond. But mostly, it's a still and quiet evening spent in exceedingly pleasant company.

The hours until midnight slip easily past, and soon Rose wakes and starts off toward the entry tree to see if King Caspian is there. A small, unpleasant piece of Darin hopes the king isn't there, and a larger piece hopes he is. But Darin didn't miss how the king looked at Rose; he didn't miss how much the king admired the cautious young woman.

But the sooner King Caspian arrives, the sooner Rose and himself can go searching for the goblin-like creatures, and the sooner Rose will know what Tanssi Kuun is up against.

Darin waits for tense minutes to see if Rose comes back alone or accompanied by the King of Narnia. He waits as patiently as he is able, but Bashar still wraps a ribbon around his hand in an obvious effort to distract him. At length, Rose returns – with King Caspian at her side. Darin isn't sure whether to feel relieved or tense.

Rose approaches steadily, and Darin can see how relaxed she is talking to King Caspian. Darin doesn't want to envy him, but a little piece of him can't quite help it. When the duo reaches him, Darin quickly stands and gives a polite greeting. Pleasantries are exchanged, but Rose quickly starts to move out, as agreed.

"I'm going back to the ashes. I need to know what's really out there," she tells King Caspian as she checks the dagger strapped around her waist.

Darin thinks to himself how well it looks on her, and misses King Caspian's reply.

"Not you too." Rose tries to sound playful, but Darin can hear the strain in her voice that betrays her frustration. King Caspian must have said something about her going alone.

"I know you can handle two of them, but you may well find two hundred," King Caspian replies.

"I was going to accompany her," Darin interjects quietly.

King Caspian nods, as if he was expecting this. "I'll watch over the faeries."

"You assume we need watching over," Bashar replies with a twinkle in her eye. Darin hadn't even noticed that she'd joined the little group, but he quickly finds that her presence puts him instantly more at ease.

The faerie sends a ribbon over to King Caspian, prompting a grin as she does. The king plays with it for a few moments before giving it back, but Darin is nothing but confused. Was that some sort of game, perhaps?

It doesn't matter; Rose is turning to go now, and he all but promised she would not go alone. So Darin checks the sword at his hip and follows Rose away from the faeries and toward the ashes. She never told him much of that, did she?

"You never told me much of the ashes," he quietly tells her when they've left the clearing for the woods.

She shrugs, clearly trying to keep from showing how it affected her, but he knows the very mention of it upsets her by how her shoulders round forward just a little bit.

"There was never much to tell," she replies. "Large pieces of the forest were burned to nothing but a carpet of ash."

"I'm sorry, Rose." Whether he's apologizing for bringing up the sore subject or for what happened, he's not quite sure. He supposes it's both.

Rose nods briefly, though he suspects it's for no other reason than to tell him she heard what he said. They continue on through the woods and Darin keeps his silence rather than asking for a more detailed explanation of what happened. He's upset her enough already as it is; no need to worsen the situation.

Hours pass, but at last they arrive. Darin's never seen so much ash in his life. When Rose said a carpet, he thought she meant an inch or two. Now he understands; no, this is nothing like that. The ashes come up to his knees easily, even halfway up his thighs in places.

"Was it like this the last time?" he asks quietly, more from the shock then anything.

Rose is frozen in place, her jaw working as if the explanations are trapped in her bones. "It was less…" her voice suddenly chokes up, and if Darin looks close enough he can see the tears in her eyes. He puts one hand on her shoulder, but it doesn't seem to help much.

"Were there any flashes on the horizon tonight?" Rose sounds a little stronger this time, but her voice still wavers from the weight of her grief.

"No," Darin says. "There was nothing." He wants to say he's sorry again, but the words don't seem like they'd be enough.

"It must have been during training…" Rose talks quietly, as if for her ears alone. Darin doesn't interrupt, but he gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She leans toward him for the smallest half-second before she moves back away, but the simple motion is enough to help soothe his worries.

Rose stands and stares in disbelief for a few moments longer, and then she's striding forward and his hand is slipping from her shoulder. He lets it.

If the ash weren't so dry, he could almost imagine that the little flakes clinging to Rose's dress were snow. Before he can think any more on that, he hears a low and ugly murmuring. Rose whips around, and he doesn't even have to ask if she heard it too.

"That's them," she whispers, pain and anger turning her voice rough. Face pinched and hard, Rose shifts around and walks this way and that before finally settling on one place. He comes to stand beside her, and when he hears how clear and close the murmuring is, he understands.

"We have to dig," she breathes into his ear.

"Not here," he answers. If they dig here, they'll quickly find themselves in the midst of their enemy.

Rose looks like she's about to argue, crouching there with her eyebrows drawn and her jaw set, but when he moves to a spot further away but still close enough to hear, she nods. By silent agreement, they brush aside as many ashes as they can and start the digging.

Several times, Rose stops and just stares at the piles of ash in her hands and Darin has to touch her arm to bring her back to the present. Every time, she grits her teeth and continues with the task at hand, though her eyes can't quite hide how much she yearns to fix this.

Once they finally hit ground, Darin takes out a dagger of his own and together he and Rose work away the earth. Darin's not hoping for much, but he thinks that they have to try, if only to distract Rose. When the dirt suddenly gives way and collapses under their hands, he's surprised enough that he almost tips forward into the new hole. It's only because Rose grabs his shoulder that he manages to keep his balance. They back up and widen the hole enough that they'll be able to slip through, and then they jump into the unknown.

At once, the ugly voices are clear as day. And so are their words. Rose's eyes widen, and Darin's do too. Vaguely, Darin wonders if he should put his arm around her, but the thought never comes to fruition.

"She'll be unhappy I say, very unhappy at this slow progress," one of the voices says. "It's not good, not good at all."

"But now that the lights are being trained, it's not really in my interest to-" Whatever the whiny voice was going to say is cut off by a loud crash and a string of curses.

"You know how the good lady gets when things don't go her way. I'd like to keep my neck," the gruffer voice answers, almost growling in its apparent anger.

"I like my neck too," gripes the second. "Now-" A squawk of pain interrupts the whiny one again.

Rose inches closer, and Darin has to grab her arm to stop her. They have no way of knowing how close those things are, and fighting in a tunnel is never a good idea.

"Cut down the numbers I say, that's all I'm asking you to do. Take out as many as you can so when we do sweep through it's easy."

"But then, it's the same thing all over again with that awful place next door that worships that lion." This is the first time the whiny one has finished a full sentence.

Darin looks over at Rose, but her face is blank. She stares at the wall and at the bend that leads on toward the voices talking about destroying her world. Darin wants to do something, anything, but he can't, not right now.

The voices continue talking about how best to take down the world above, and Rose stands stiff as a board the entire time, listening like a hawk with hard eyes that promise revenge. He desperately wishes there was something he could do to take away what these creatures are saying, if only to spare Rose the heartache. But there's nothing to do now but wait for them to move away. The conversation lasts a while, long enough that Darin considers the ramifications of trying to take them on, tunnel be damned. But at last they move off, and Rose is the first to climb out of the hole in the tunnel roof. Darin follows close behind her, his heart heavy just at seeing how rattled she is. Even more so, how hard she tries to hide it.

He only wishes he could help.


	21. Unwelcome Visitors

**(Rose POV)**

The most difficult thing isn't hearing those creatures speak of what horrors they plan to inflict on Tanssi Kuun; the worst thing is knowing I'll have to tell the faeries exactly what they have planned. No matter how strong I'm trying to be, the wave of fear and sorrow that awaits me at the telling makes me want to crumble right here.

I'll do no such thing.

Darin helps me cover up the hole in the ground we made, just to try and keep those things from getting any closer to the surface. Maybe they'll think it was a cave-in, and it'll slow them down. I know that's wishful thinking, but I can't help entertaining the notion.

He walks beside me as we leave to return to the faeries, and I can't find anything to say. I know he means to comfort me, but there's no comfort to be had, not now. Not with those creatures so close to the surface, and so bent on destroying the very place I'm duty-bound to protect. How dare they! What gives them the right to worm their way under the faeries' home? Under my home? What right do they have to destroy us?

I'm so caught in my thoughts that I almost forget that Darin's still walking with me. He looks so lost when I glance over. I think he would usually know better what to do, what to say, if it weren't for the lingering awkwardness from that accidental kiss.

I'd rather think of that than of Tanssi Kuun's fate if the earth-goblins get their way.

"You know they'll attack again," I say quietly. "Darin, you don't have to stick around for that. It'll be ugly."

A calloused hand takes mine, and I look away so he won't see the tears shining in my eyes. I've been trying to hold them back for the better part of an hour, and now my success in doing so is even more threatened.

"I'm not going anywhere." His tone is soft, far too warm for such a cold morning.

But it reassures me, in spite of my lingering embarrassment. Darin's been kind today, and he seems content to let the mistake fade into the past, at least until a more opportune time arises. I, for one, am hoping it never arises, but I can worry with that later. I have half a mind to argue about Darin staying for the surely ugly fight, but he sounded so sincere that I don't have the heart. We've argued enough lately. And perhaps, in my heart of hearts, I want to know he's at my side.

The rest of the walk is silent. There's nothing to say, really, and I have to use every moment I have to try to figure out what to do. We'll have to fight them, and soon, but it would behoove me to think of where the conflict should be, if I get any say in that. The woods might be best; the faeries know every tree, leaf, and branch and the earth goblins do not.

When we arrive back at the faeries' camp, King Caspian is still on watch even though dawn is mere minutes away. He stands solemnly as we approach, as if he's already guessed that something terrible is afoot.

"I'll finish the watch," I say as we get close enough to see the tired lines on his face.

For a moment, King Caspian looks about to argue, but he looks at me for a moment longer and closes them again. He nods once before going off to find some place to sleep.

"I'll tell everyone in the morning," I say to Darin.

"If you need anything…" he hesitates, clearly unsure of his words. "Well, just ask."

"I know." I squeeze his hand before turning away to finish the watch. Only when I'm sure I'm alone do I let my shoulders sag and my head fall into my hands.

How do I tell them this? How do I break this kind of news when I don't even know how to process it myself?

The earth goblins expect to break through to the surface by tomorrow afternoon, and that's assuming they don't find the hole Darin and I dug. Once they break through it's only a matter of hours, maybe a day at most, until they can march their entire army through from underground. They'll only need time to either widen the hole or come up it single file.

An army from under the earth – I never thought I'd hear of that.

A sob builds in my chest at the hopelessness of the whole thing, but I know Darin and King Caspian won't have fallen asleep yet. The most I can allow myself is a few silent tears. They trickle down my cheeks much thicker than I anticipated. Oh well, better to get them out now than be fighting them all day tomorrow.

A quiet whisper jolts me from my gloomy reverie, and I whip around to see Bashar looking at me sheepishly. "I thought you could use some rest," she says. "Go, I'll finish the watch."

I want to protest, I truly do, but even I can't deny how tired I am just from the revelations of tonight.

"At least let me stay up with you until the moon rises," I answer with a fond smile. Seeing Bashar makes me think of our dance the other night, the first free-spirited fun we'd had in what had seemed like too long. I hope Tanssi Kuun can soon return to those days.

Bashar comes to sit beside me on the watching rock, their ribbons lighting up parts of the moss and throwing others into shadow. It transfixes me for a moment, perhaps for no other reason than I'm grasping for anything to distract me from the news I have to deliver in the morning.

"Something is troubling you, Rose. I have not felt you so upset in all the time you've been here," Bashar murmurs to me as I turn my gaze to the horizon.

"In the morning, I will tell everyone. I can tell you now if you wish, but I'm not sure how to say it yet." Normally I wouldn't be so honest, but with the faeries it seems to come naturally.

Bashar wraps ribbons around my shoulders until the chills brought on by what morning brings are chased away. I smile my gratitude just as the moon starts to peek over the horizon.

I'm so afraid whenever I look at the sky now that I'll see a distant flash, that when I return to the woods there will be another vast expanse of destruction in front of me.

A wave of comfort comes my way from the faerie next to me, but it isn't quite enough to keep my stormy thoughts at bay. I still can't reconcile how to break the bad news. But with Bashar next to me, I watch the moon slowly emerge in the sky. The sight, together with the faerie's comfort, is enough to calm me for a few moments. The moon is pearlescent as always, but something about it tonight seems even more beautiful than before.

I have to protect them. I can't fail them.

Bashar hugs me tighter with her ribbons, until there's so much warmth that I can't feel gloomy anymore. I want so much for them to be safe, and I will do anything and everything in my power to make it so.

"Go to bed, Rose," Bashar tells me after a heartbeat. "You need your rest."

"But-" I start to protest, but I'm cut off by a firm shake of the head.

"Rose, go to sleep."

Bashar shoos me off with a few swats of her ribbons, and I have little choice but to obey. I make sure she can feel the soft sparks of my gratitude as I head a little ways off to find a nice place to spend the next hour or two.

* * *

They're here. I can hear their marching, their cries of war, their grunts of anticipation. They have been looking forward to the day they bring war to a place that should never even hear the word.

All at once they emerge from the trees, in greater number than I ever could have imagined. Grotesque creatures of every shape and size charge at us, waving crude weapons that make my stomach turn over in disgust. How are they already painted in blood?

They break onto us like a storm on land, unmerciful and joyous in their brutishness. And they have had the training to kill without thinking, almost without trying. Everywhere I look, one of the creatures I'm supposed to protect is being cut down by a rusty mace or a roughly hewn ax.

I'm failing, I'm failing and they're dying and there's nothing I can do.

Amid the din of the terrible, terrible bloodbath, another sound rises that stands the hair on the back of my neck on end. A rattle, a menacing rattle that promises suffering and death and a thousand other horrible things. An ugly green head rears above the masses of earth goblins and hisses with a smile in its eyes.

A snake.

* * *

I wake with a sweat beading on my brow and a pounding heart to match it. A sick feeling of dread almost overwhelms me, and I jump to my feet with my hand on my dagger to meet whatever threat is here. Are the goblins here sooner than I thought?

No, this sound is not the sound of a goblin. This is a snake's rattle.

I spin in circles trying to find the snake itself. If I can hear its rattle, it must be close.

The ringing of a sword being drawn from its scabbard halts my frantic spin for a moment, and I see King Caspian too has gotten to his feet. He hears the snake as well. By silent agreement we come to stand by each other and face opposite directions, back to back. My blade would tremble in my grip without his solid warmth behind me.

"Have you seen this before?"

"No," I answer King Caspian in an unsteady whisper.

A rushing sort of noise has me glancing to my right, into the woods. It almost sounds like something is slithering through there, rustling the leaves. King Caspian shifts slightly to his left; he hears it too.

Then, just as suddenly as it came, it's gone, leaving only silence in its wake.

King Caspian turns to me with his sword still out, eyes silently asking if I'm alright. I nod, but I tremble as I keep my dagger in front of me. It could come back. How did it get in my dream? Or worse, perhaps it crept into my dream because it was already approaching as I was waking up.

A hand on my arm pulls me from my thoughts, and I almost curse when I realize my body really has started to shake.

"I think the danger has passed," King Caspian murmurs, sheathing his sword as he finishes the reassurance. The dull ring brings me back to my senses and reminds me to put my weapon away too.

I only notice that King Caspian's hand is still on my arm when I look up from putting my dagger away. At first, I glance at it in confusion. And then my common sense rears its head and reminds me that the king is most likely trying to comfort me. Why is it working?

"What is a snake doing in Tanssi Kuun?" I whisper, more to the still morning air than to King Caspian. Yet, he replies.

"Perhaps that is our enemy," he answers as quietly as I asked, looking off in the direction of the snake with his eyebrows pinched together and his mouth drawn into a tense line.

"One of them," I correct, instantly remembering the earth goblins I found last night. I still don't know how to break that news.

"The snake and the goblin creatures could be working as one."

It's only then that I realize he said our. Our enemy, he said, not Tanssi Kuun's, not mine, but ours. What ours? And why does the thought stir up a strange glow in my heart?

"Perhaps." This is all I say; the rest, he will know soon enough. I begin to walk away, but King Caspian stops me with a question that I almost hate, but he sounds so concerned that I can't hate it completely.

"What happened last night?"

If his intention was to stop me in his tracks, then by the Lion he's succeeded. And I haven't the faintest idea how to answer his question, or if I should even answer it at all. He'll know with all the rest of them soon enough. So why I open my mouth and let many, many words spill out, I will never know.

"Darin and I found a tunnel under the burned forest." I find myself drifting back to him. "Caspian, there's an army of the earth goblins. And they're coming here very soon, perhaps tomorrow. I don't know if we'll be able to hold them off." I had no need to tell him all that, yet I did. What on earth is the matter with me?

For his part, King Caspian doesn't know what to say at first; he only looks sorry, so very sorry at the news. I'm expecting the next words out of his mouth to be more questions, a request for further details, but he surprises me. "I will ensure that I am here to help you."

"Have you gone mad?" I hiss. "You're the king of Narnia, and I will not have you killed here, no matter the reason!" Darin staying is one thing, but the king of Narnia? That's a risk I refuse to take. The consequences of a king vanishing into thin air are too much to toy with.

"Surely you don't doubt my abilities in battle, Rosamar?" the king answers with an odd little half-smirk adorning his face.

"Of course not, but numbers can outmatch skill. And if something were to happen to you…by the Lion Caspian, have you even thought of what that would look like? What it would mean?" I push all this out in a mere two breaths, and my head is spinning by the time I finish.

The fierce determination shining in King Caspian's eyes as he looks at me nearly sets my heart aflame. "I am well aware, but I cannot simply leave you and the faeries to fight those creatures on your own," King Caspian argues his case right back, and something tells me he won't back down quietly. He softens, just a little. "I will not."

"You must! This isn't your fight-" I snap back as I fold my arms over my chest. I'm annoyed, yes, but more than anything else I'm afraid. 

"Yes, it is. I made you a promise, Rose, and I intend to keep it. A king is only as good as his word."

"A king's word is not worth so much when he is dead." As soon as I've said that, I know it's the exact wrong thing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" I trail off, unsure of how exactly to end the apology without making things worse.

King Caspian gains a harder, angry edge to his gaze, even after my apology. "I know you didn't," he says, but the anger doesn't vanish from his eyes. "But if I leave now, when you have the greatest need of me, how is that right?"

"Sometimes right doesn't matter. You are the King of Narnia, Caspian. You are needed to rule, and you have people who will miss you. It's not so for me." I say this in an attempt at reason, but something tells me it's not going to work.

"And were something to happen to you, who would look after Tanssi Kuun?" Caspian could have raised his voice for that, but the question is surprisingly gentle.

Chills race through my limbs as I realise I don't have an answer. Darin has the other pendant but he hasn't been prepared for it, and he never asked for the responsibility. Caspian's eyes bore into mine, and I already know I've lost the argument. He steps forward until he's barely inches in front of me and puts his hands on both my shoulders. I don't want to look him in the eye, but he doesn't give me a choice.

"You will fight beside them no matter, yes?"

"Yes," I whisper. I want to shout it.

"As will I." King Caspian's tone brokers no argument, and his hands don't move from my shoulders.

If anything happens to him… "Promise to stay as safe, Caspian. As safe as you can." If he won't let me outright ban him from the fight, maybe I can extract some sort of promise from him. "The king can't just disappear into thin air, not now."

King Caspian frowns and the anger in his eyes flashes up again, but he jerks his head in a single nod as his hands slip from my shoulders. I don't know what to say. After a few moments of unpleasant silence I turn to go, but Caspian takes my hand before I can take a single step.

"Why did you come to me? At the castle?"

I fight the itch in my shoulders to shrug. "I needed your help. Even if I didn't think you had the time, I had to ask." The faeries were more important than my pride; surely he understands that.

"You had Darin."

Why is he acting like this? I'm not sure what he wants, but the way he says that makes anger tickle at the edges of my voice. Logic is the only answer I can give. "Three are stronger than two, and he couldn't train everyone all the time," I answer. Even I can hear how quickly my voice has gone cold. Why do I have to fight with both of them at once?

King Caspian still hasn't let go of my hand. "Do you want me here, Rose?"

At the moment? No, I'm fairly sure I could do without him. But Tanssi Kuun needs him, and wants him too, so I can't speak for myself, especially not now with the battle so close.

But I can't lie either.

"What this world needs will always trump anything I want." Now I think it's my tone that brokers no argument. And yet, Caspian still finds a way.

"Rose, do you?" His voice is soft and almost vulnerable, if such an adjective could ever be used to describe a king. I think he's trying to get me to meet his gaze, but I decide the grass behind him is a better place to look.

"Did you not hear me? I said it doesn't matter," I say firmly, as I make my first attempt at pulling my hand away. I'm not expecting the king to hold on.

"I'd like to know," he presses on, still keeping his grip. It's firm, but not bruising.

One of the most uncomfortable silences in my life follows that. I've told him twice now that it doesn't matter if I want him here or not, and he hasn't listened then. Why would he listen if I tell him a third time? He clearly won't give up until he gets a straight answer. But I can't put Tanssi Kuun in danger, can I? And yet, I've never been the best at lying.

Maybe if I tell him the truth, he'll at least leave the issue be. He did say he'd fight with us in no uncertain terms. But then, if I tell him no, perhaps that would be enough to change his mind about staying.

"Yes," comes the whispered truth. "I do."

Wait…what did I just say?

Caspian heard me; his grip on my hand softens, and his fingers curl into mine until I look down and see that our hands are now intertwined. Did that mean so much to him? But I don't want him here, do I? Royalty will only bring trouble, and even kings will let you down eventually? I know that, don't I? Then why is a small part of me whispering that no, I _do_ want him here?

I want to take it back. I have to take it back. And I don't. I let that one truth hang in the air, heavier and yet lighter in the early morning light.

My stare at the ground breaks when I notice Caspian shifting. Quickly, I return my gaze downward. I don't want to see his reaction to that. Lion, I wouldn't want to see my own reaction to something like that!

I'm so busy staring down and investigating the grass under my shoes that I don't realize Caspian's moved closer until my eyes slip up a little and I notice a pair of boots mere inches away from my own two feet. Before I can react to that development alone, two arms wrap around me and draw me in close, so close that if I breathe a little quieter, I can hear a slow and steady heartbeat.

I do not like hugs. But I like this one, and I hate that I like it.

Caspian doesn't seem to mind my sudden conversion to a stone statue. His arms loosen almost at once, withdrawing just as suddenly as they came. I should be stepping away, avoiding further embarrassment to us both.

So why are my arms circling around his back, and why is my neck slowly relaxing, muscle by muscle, until I'm outright leaning against the King of Narnia's chest? None of this is like me at all, and I like it, and I don't like it. Things just had to turn confusing this close to the battle, didn't they?

A warm breath tickles the hair on top of my head, and I have to strain to hear the king's words. "Thank you," is all he says, so quietly. Perhaps he's hoping I won't hear, but what sense would that make?

We stay like that for far too long for my comfort, and at the same time not long enough. By the Lion, I hate these sorts of feelings. Caspianmoves first, his arms slipping away as air fills the new space between us and leaves a slight chill on my cheek where it was resting so peacefully over his heart. Perhaps it should be much stranger to me than it actually is that I now know what the king's heartbeat sounds like.

My musings are quickly snapped away when I see Caspian bending down toward me, lips ever so slightly parted. No, he's not about to…no, he wouldn't…we wouldn't…no.

Am I going completely mad?

Mad or no, Caspian's lips are now a mere breath away from my own and I have to decide now what to do. Heavens help me, I'll not forgive myself no matter what I do. So I go with the safest option, the option that makes the most sense.

I pull away.

"I can't," I whisper. "We can't."

He knows that and I know that. When was this even an issue, anyway? But Caspian understands what I mean instantly, and I try my best not to be disappointed when he withdraws and releases me from his arms. I should be nothing but relieved.

"I'm sorry Rose, I don't know what came over me."

The apology stings, and I have no idea why. But rather than complicating everything further by vocalizing this distress, I opt to mask it and pretend for just a few moments that I'm only relieved and nothing more.

"It's alright," I hear myself replying, without being quite sure of my words as they leave my lips.

With that, Caspian leaves me to my thoughts. I try my best not to miss him as he goes.

* * *

As morning stretches on and the faeries gradually wake up, I remain as confused as ever. In fact, I stay rooted to that one spot, that one terrifying spot where I think the King of Narnia was about to kiss me. What a start to the day.

Bashar is the one to find me still standing in that exact there like the absolute fool I am.

"He meant well."

"He could have had better timing," I grumble in response, more for the release that the attempt at levity will bring. But considering the situation, it falls entirely flat.

I'm unspeakably grateful when they change the subject without any prompting.

"When is your month up? I remember you mentioning that when you first came here quite a few moons ago." Basher must have picked up on my aversion to our previous topic, and I try to perk up my own spirits in response. I don't want to weigh anyone else down this morning, especially not one of the faeries I'm sworn to protect at all costs. Yet, there is no good news to answer that question either.

"Oh no, I think it's either today or tomorrow…" Time flies, I suppose, but how am I supposed to leave now, with the earth-goblins so close and so eager to tear this place to pieces?

"Go. We will be alright for the hours you will be gone," Bashar says, taking my hand and drawing me into the swirl of their ribbons. They tickle my skin in the most pleasant sort of way as they dance about.

"Tanssi Kuun is infinitely more important than my work, Bashar."

The faerie fixes me with a stern look in reply. "Rose, you'd best check on things in Narnia, at least briefly. We will still be here when you return, I promise."

Something in me relents. "You'd better be."

Bashar's ribbons tell me more than their words; they warm to the point of discomfort, and I quickly understand that fear burns just as sorrow does. With fear, the burn is sharper and comes in bursts.

"You can't ask me to leave you at a time like this," I continue, my fingers fiddling with one of the scorching ribbons. "How can I keep you safe if I'm not even in the same world?"

"I don't need to remind you that you do not live here. Take care of things in Narnia as fast as you can, and then return to us." Bashar leans in until their head rests against mine, and I wonder at how bright they are. "I would not have you get in trouble for our sakes."

I pause and consider. By the time I've reached my conclusion, everyone else is taking breakfast before training starts today. This day's lessons will be the most important yet.

And then I remember the news. I remember the army and the awful plans I have to tell the faeries about. I'm still not ready, but I'll have to be. My heart in my throat, I call them to me and hope my face doesn't betray everything just yet. Then again, perhaps that would be easier, if they guess instead of me forcing the words from my mouth. Nothing about this will be easy, and they deserve to know.

"Darin and I discovered something last night," I begin. My throat is already going dry and scratchy, and the faeries are listening attentively. "There is an army of earth goblins that have been tunneling under us for quite some time. They will arrive at the surface in a matter of hours." Is my voice shaking so much? I clear my throat and continue. "They mean to wipe this earth clean of all of us. The attacks of late have been an attempt to reduce our numbers enough that when they come at their full strength, we will have no way of opposing them," I continue, keenly aware that tears are starting to prick at my eyes. "They could be here as soon as tomorrow."

Silence greets me, but I feel the flashes surprise mix with white-hot bursts of fear emanating from each and every one of the creatures I am to defend. My own surprise joins the mix when I feel the burn of fear lessen as they continue to look at me. Is that determination? A little spark of my own fills my chest. If the faeries believe we can beat this, why should I not feel the same? If they can hope, I must do the same. We have help; we may yet survive this. But at what cost?

The question makes my brief spurt of hope flicker down again, until it's barely a whisper. I have to finish telling them.

"Today, we have to train as much as we can. I promise, I will do everything in my power to look after you, but we all have to be ready to throw these creatures out of our world." My voice gradually rises in volume, and with it comes a will of iron. Hope remains elusive, but the least I can do is give the earth creatures the hardest fight of their lives. I'll make them sorry they ever wanted to end this place, I swear. "I have to return to Narnia for a brief time, but I'll be back as soon as I am able. Take care in my absence, please," I end with a whisper that almost breaks at the end. I can't bear to think of something happening to any one of them, especially not now.

Now that I've delivered the necessary news, I let my shoulders relax just a little and start to walk away from my solitary position in front of everyone. Darin quickly approaches me.

"I will look after them until you come back," he says, and for a moment it's like nothing strange ever happened between us.

"Thank you. I'll be back as quickly as I can." I smile as I say this, in the hope that things really can be as they were between us. For right now, it almost seems like they could.

I prepare to leave, but before I head off I seek out King Caspian just so I'll know what his plans are. He answers my unspoken question the second he sees me approaching.

"I am not expected at the castle for another few hours. I hope to wait until you return." Caspian smiles, but it looks just a little pained.

"Take care of them," is the only thing I say back. And with that, I start to head towards the entry tree. Bashar stops me after a few steps with one of their ribbons that winds around my wrist.

"I will be back as soon as I am able, I promise," I whisper as they dart forward into my arms.

I only relented on this because I've fought too much as of late and I'm tired of it, and the earth goblins should not be here before tomorrow. I'm sure Sima won't keep me long, and even if it seems as though she will, I think an excuse to leave won't be so very difficult to conjure up. I need to be here with the faeries after this battle is over too, assuming I survive.

"Hurry back to us," Bashar whispers, wrapping their ribbons around us until I can't see anything else. I've missed the comfort the faeries bring; we've all been training so much lately that moments like these are not so easy to come by as they were when I first arrived.

I leave then, and I try not to think how much I'll miss this place even for the few hours I'll be gone. I got used to spending all my time here for the past month; it'll be strange to be out in sunlight again.

The moment I set foot back into Narnia, I feel much lonelier and much more afraid. At least in Tanssi Kuun, I know I'm there to defend the faeries against the dangers; now I have to trust Darin and Caspian to do my job while I spin another story for Sima. On my walk through the woods, I come up with a believable enough story about one of my relatives dying and the funeral happening very soon, and I only came back to grab a few of my things. It's the best I can come up with but I'm fairly sure it'll work.

That is, until I see the guards on my front doorstep.


	22. A Royal Rescue

**(Caspian POV)**

Caspian won't deny that he's the tiniest bit relieved when Rose leaves to straighten out her life in Narnia. He'd made a bit of a mistake this morning, and he is not entirely sure how to act around her now. He had quietly known that he was developing feelings of some substance for Rose, but it wasn't until he almost kissed her without thinking that he understood exactly what kind of feelings he was dealing with. By the Lion, Professor Cornelius was right. Under normal circumstances, this would come as no surprise to Caspian, but for this particular topic he is absolutely shocked.

He doesn't blame her a bit for turning him away.

She likely knows as well as he does that it would be endlessly complicated were something to happen between them. The court, while pleasant enough to mingle with at feasts, has plenty of ugly sides as well, and Rose is certainly not the type to put up with that sort of thing on a regular basis. Caspian deals with the nobility day in and day out, and while some of them are wholeheartedly decent, there are just as many who are not. Then there's the small matter of what being with the King of Narnia means. Supposing things were to work out between them, Caspian is well aware that his wife would become the Queen of Narnia. That would be a heavy responsibility, and Rose already has one world to take care of; she has no room for another in her life.

And of course there's the detail that all things considered, they've known each other perhaps a few weeks. If he knows Rose at all, it would take months, if not years, to build enough trust with her to merit any sort of relationship beyond friendship. As it was, he has a feeling much of their friendship is based on Tanssi Kuun, and were it not for the world's need, they might never have gotten closer than knowing each other's names.

In a way, he supposes he owes Tanssi Kuun a thank you. Even though nothing more can come of it, he is glad to have someone like Rose to call a friend. Here, she is not afraid to speak her mind, to disagree with him. It's an odd relief, to find someone outside the council who isn't afraid to challenge him. The only way it would be better would be if Rose could understand that his life should not mean more than hers or anyone's.

Caspian is distinctly sure that if he tries to tell her anything of the sort she will disagree and spell out all the reasons Narnia needs him, and so he thinks that the battle is better left unfought. If he thought there to be any hope of changing her mind, of course he would try to do so, but there does not seem to be. They'll have plenty of fighting to do soon, and perhaps afterward when things have calmed down he will try.

Supposing Rose ever wishes to speak to him again, that is.

He probably should not have asked her if she wanted him here, but something about the whole scenario had reminded him of the Kings and Queens of Old. While he would always appreciate their help, it had been jarring to suddenly not be in charge anymore, and he had struggled with the idea that the Narnians didn't need or want him anymore once their beloved monarchs had returned. This had felt similar somehow, though he knew it was in fact a very different situation.

If he thinks about it, he's sure that more than asking if she wanted him around here and now, he was really asking if she would want him around later, when there was no threat to Tanssi Kuun. She'd looked like she would say she wouldn't, and he had honestly expected a negative reaction. But then she'd said she did, even if she looked unsure of the word as it was slipping out of her mouth and every moment afterward too.

Just then, the earth trembles under his boots. A low rumbling slowly builds and builds in volume until it seems the very sound itself is shaking the ground. Have the earth creatures arrived early?

Darin runs off toward the forest with his sword drawn, and Caspian quickly decides that the faeries need to be ready in case it truly is the army Rose told them of hardly an hour ago.

"Form up!" he calls to them as he draws his own sword.

They instantly do as he says, but he can see the dread in their eyes. The weapons they've made of wood and stone look primitive and hopeless when he looks at his own sword. What will the earth creatures have?

Darin comes tearing back from the woods with blood on his sword. The low roar starts to die down, but it's still loud enough to send chills down Caspian's spine. "They sent scouts to the surface. The rest will be here in hours, as soon as they break through the rest of the way," Darin gasps out, cleaning his blade on the grass as he relays the news. That shaking in the ground must be them breaking through the last of the earth above.

"Rose," both of them say at once, and when Darin meets Caspian's worried look, Caspian realizes two things. First, one of them has to go and get Rose immediately. Second, Darin is in love with her.

For the moment the first is infinitely more pressing than the second, so Caspian sheathes his sword in a hurry and tells the breathless young man no older than him that he'll go and fetch Rose as quickly as he can if Darin will just get the faeries ready for the impending battle until they return. He's a bit surprised when Darin agrees without a moment's hesitation, but perhaps he knows Rose will be both proud and grateful to know that he prepared the faeries. Whatever the case, Caspian knows now is not the time to ponder; he takes off for the entry tree at a full-out run.

As he races through the grass that comes almost to his shoulders, he tries not to think too much about how hard Rose will take the sudden turn of events. She was barely ready to lead the faeries into combat a day hence; now, with hours left that will be spent simply getting back to Tanssi Kuun, Caspian knows it will be even harder on her.

Rose will have no time at all to prepare.

Caspian almost wishes he could spare her, but at the same time he knows it's best to get the battle over with so Tanssi Kuun can, perhaps, return to a time of peace. Peace comes easier to Rose's world than to Narnia. He'd envy it if he didn't love the place and its inhabitants so dearly.

Crossing into Narnia doesn't bring the same rush of kingly duty as it has in the past; now, Caspian's only thought is to find Rose and get her back. She'd be safer if she missed the battle entirely, but he knows well that she would never forgive herself, or him for that matter. Her safety means little to her if Tanssi Kuun is in danger, as she clearly showed when she tackled him the first night he came to her world.

A cramp starts in Caspian's side from the continuously hard pace he won't back down from, but he only forces himself to run that much faster. The faster he runs, the sooner Rose will know what's going on.

By the time the stitch in his side is so bad he has to relent, he's moments away from the city gate and he has to slow down anyway to avoid attracting attention. He still walks as fast as he can, and he keeps his head down in the hopes that no one will recognize him. He makes it to Sima's wool shop without incident, and the brusque woman opens the door a few moments after his knock.

"Your Majesty, you visit again!"

At once, Caspian knows something is wrong. Sima's cheerfulness is forced this time, and there is no gruffness about her. Something's rattled the fiery matron, and Caspian has a sinking feeling that it involves Rose.

"I apologize for the interruption, but is Rose at home?"

Sima opens the door wider and gestures for him to come inside. After a moment, Caspian does, but his worry only grows at Sima's unusual silence. Last he was here, she was bustling about and chattering away, even though she was clearly caught off-guard by his sudden appearance at her door. Now, she is nearly silent with eyes that look red from crying.

As soon as he steps inside, he sees Lilia sitting on her stool with eyes even more red than Sima's. The younger woman wrings her hands continuously, even as she stands and dips into a small curtsy.

"I swear, Your Majesty, Rose isn't the sort to plot. She's odd at times, believe me I know, but she only goes to the woods to dance, and-"

"What's happened? Where is Rose?" Caspian only realizes after he's spoken that he interrupted, but no one seems to notice or even care.

"The soldiers came and took her away not two hours ago, Majesty. Forgive us, we thought you had ordered it," Sima answers in a shaky voice that sounds so very unlike her.

At once, Caspian feels his blood practically boil in anger. Who ordered Rose's arrest, if he did not? The council? The Lord Regent? On what evidence?!

"Thank you my ladies, I will see to this myself. But I swear to you, this was not done on my command," Caspian grits out, barely noticing that his fists are clenching until his nails press against his palm.

He says the briefest goodbye he can, and then Caspian storms off toward the castle without stopping to wonder at just how furious he happens to be. His only thought is getting Rose out so she can help Tanssi Kuun and once that is accomplished he will find out who ordered this and hang them out to dry.

Caspian finds that he reaches the castle quicker than he anticipated, but then again he's not paying too much attention to his walk, not with this new development taking over all his mental energy. The guards don't question him at all this time; Caspian supposes he must look incensed enough that they know not to push him.

He throws open the castle doors and heads straight for the dungeon, still fuming. He knows that they will have taken her down here, and he fully intends to have several rather emphatic words with the guards alone. When he reaches the dungeon door, he throws that open too and barks at the first guard he sees.

"You recently brought a young woman down here, by the name of Rosamar. Where is she?!" he yells, not quite intending to shout as loudly as he did, but not really regretting it either.

"The th-third cell on the right," stammers the wide-eyed guard.

Caspian holds out his hand for the key ring, which the guard quickly supplies. The jingling of the metal only makes Caspian that much more enraged.

"Who ordered this?" Caspian snarls, while he's thinking of it.

"The Lord Regent," here the guard gulps visibly, paling in the sight of the king's barely contained anger, "Your Majesty."

Caspian says nothing more; he merely nods curtly and rushes down the stairs, his frown deepening when his boot hits a slippery spot. Rose could have fallen on steps this slick, and if he finds out she did then the guard who dragged her down the steps will answer to him as well.

The keys clink coldly as Caspian strides down the hall and stops at Rose's door. There she is, huddled in a ball at the far corner, face hiding in her arms and hair flowing over her legs.

"Rose," Caspian says, the anger gone from his voice in an instant.

She jumps a little and her face appears from behind her hair. And then it seems she realizes who's standing at her cell door, and she jumps to her feet with a look of plain gratitude on her face. Caspian's a little surprised to see that her eyes are not red like Sima's or Lilia's, that the only mark of her ordeal is the heaviness hidden deep in her gaze.

"I suppose this wasn't your order then?" Rose says mildly. He gets the idea she's trying to bring some levity to the situation, but he can only manage a strained smile in reply.

"Rose I'm so sorry, I had no idea-"

"I know." And she does, he can see it in how she looks at him: relieved, hopeful, with no traces of anger or fear or confusion. The sight roots Caspian to his spot, though he doesn't quite understand why.

"Are you going to let me out or just stand there?" Rose asks with a smile that's just a little too sad.

Caspian immediately shakes himself from his stupor and unlocks the door, hating the rattling of the keys as much as before. Rose steps out with only the slightest tremor in her step, but he notices that she's walking stiffly.

"Are you alright?" he asks at once.

"I'm not used to sitting down for so long," she answers, still trying to keep her voice light and still not quite achieving it.

That's a lie, and he thinks they both know it. Carding wool meant sitting down for hours at a time.

"The stairs-"

"Caspian," she interrupts. "I'm fine."

He's still not convinced, but the distant look in her eye and her hand intertwining with his convinces him to let it lie for now. It's then, with her hand cool in his, that Caspian remembers why it was so very urgent that he find her in the first place.

"Rose, we need to get back. The army will be there today, they've almost broken through." The dismal words feel heavy on Caspian's tongue, but this is the entire reason he came here.

Ironically, it was good that the earth creatures came when they did, or he would not have known of Rose's plight for hours more, perhaps longer. Just thinking about Rose sitting silently in this cold and damp cell for hours on end is enough to get him spitting mad again.

Caspian remains lost in thought until Rose bolts away from him down the hall, and then he realizes how upset she must be.

"Rose!" In an instant, he's caught up to her and catches her arm.

"I don't have time-"

"We'll take Destrier, it will be much faster," Caspian explains as he keeps their pace at a rather brisk walk.

When they get to the stairs, however, Rose breaks away and takes them two at a time, and Caspian has little choice but to follow suit. As Caspian passes the guard, who still looks a little pale, he tosses the keys back and grabs the dagger on the table without a second glance.

Caspian makes only one stop, one that Rose shoots him an impatient look for, and that is to get Queen Lucy's cordial. When Rose questions him, he reminds her that a battle is coming and there will be plenty who need the cordial's healing powers. By Rose's confused face, she'd never heard of the item before, but they're hurrying outside before Caspian has time to explain it to her.

By the time they reach the stables Rose is clearly out of breath, but she refuses to slow down even when Caspian tells her she needs to be at her full strength for the battle.

"I can catch my breath on the way," is all she says.

Caspian calls for Destrier to be readied at once. Although the stable boys do their level best to meet the sudden demand, Rose still paces irritably with her arms crossed over her chest. Under normal circumstances, Caspian thinks he would try to calm her, but nothing about today has been normal at all. If Caspian were not king, he would likely pace with her.

The moment Destrier stands ready with his saddle secure, Caspian takes the reins and holds them while he tells Rose to jump on. She hesitates, and Caspian realizes that she has most likely never ridden a horse in her life.

"Put your foot in the stirrup and jump up," he tells her. As soon as he's said it, he thinks it might be better if he helps her up himself, so he calls to the stable boy again and gets him to hold the reins.

Rose looks like she might protest for a moment, but the frantic worry shines in her eyes again and she doesn't utter a contrary word. So Caspian swings up first and then extends his hand down to her. Soon enough, she settles behind him. At first, she keeps her hands at her side, but when Caspian gently reaches around and puts her hands around his waist, she doesn't stop him or pull away.

"Hold on," he tells her, and then Destrier springs into action and they're galloping out of the stables.

Rose clings to him then, no doubt unnerved by going so fast on an animal she'd previously never been astride. But Caspian knows that she'll ask him to go faster if he tries to slow down for her sake, so he pretends not to notice her death-grip around his ribcage and simply presses Destrier on. As they pass through the city, Caspian is forced to slow down simply to avoid hitting the citizens roaming about. He can feel Rose tense behind him at the less frenzied pace.

The moment they're out of the city, he urges his horse back to the fastest gallop possible with two riders. Destrier tosses his head, indignant at the extra load, and Caspian has to soothe him with several pats to the neck and more than a few soothing words.

Weaving in and out of the trees proves a little more difficult, and Caspian is starkly reminded of the night he rode for his life through these very woods when his nephew was born. Now he is racing toward something, rather than away, but the suffocating feeling of time running out is the same.

"They took my dagger," Rose says suddenly, as if she's just remembered.

In answer, Caspian holds up the very article she was missing; he'd grabbed it from the guard's table as he was storming by, and he'd forgotten to give it to her before now. She takes it from him with a murmured thank you and releases one arm from holding on to his torso to strap the dagger around her hips.

When they finally reach the entry tree, Rose leaps from the horse before Caspian can help her down and presses her pendant into the tree bark. The door opens, they ride through, and at once the ugly sound of thousands of marching feet attacks their ears.

Any moment now, it will begin.


	23. All Lands Need a Queen

I'm not nearly ready for this, but I have to be.

The earth goblins have arrived, I was arrested this morning, rescued by King Caspian a mere hour ago. And now I have no choice but to lead the faeries into a battle that not all of us will survive, I know it.

I have no idea what to do.

"You don't have to be here, you know," I tell Caspian, more to fill the tense atmosphere than because I think he'll listen.

"I know." This is his only reply before urging Destrier onward toward the dull clamor of marching earth goblin feet.

I suppose that is his way of reminding me that he doesn't intend to go anywhere. Before this, it frustrated me, that determination to help us in spite of the danger to himself because I knew what the consequences would be should something truly drastic happen to him. It would be much worse than the events of this morning, I know. And yet now, I find that I'm only astoundingly grateful for the help of one so much more skilled than myself or the faeries in warfare.

"Thank you," I whisper, fully expecting the wind formed by our frantic ride to whip my words away before he hears them. But one of his hands leaves the reins and clasps mine for the briefest moment, and I know then that yes, he heard me.

And then the roar of the approaching army reaches its crescendo as we burst into the clearing. There are the faeries, formed up into ranks with weapons gleaming from the light they naturally cast off. Were the situation less dire, I could admire the striking figure they cut a little better.

As soon as we're beside them, I jump from the still-moving horse and draw my dagger, the one Caspian remembered to take back for me. The faeries all send a ribbon my way, so many at once that I can't make out individual strands; I only see the mass of colorful lights flowing towards me. They join together and wrap around my dagger, transforming it into a beam that almost sheds as much light as a sun on the creatures behind me.

"After this, I hope we never have to fight again," I say firmly, ensuring that I let them feel the resolve building in my chest. They meet the swell of adrenaline more than I ever could have asked for. But before I can try to communicate just how proud I am of what we have become together, the earth army bursts from the trees ahead, waving all manner of roughly hewn weapons that have no other purpose than inflicting the most painful of injuries.

Darin appears at my right side, and Caspian at my left. These are the two friends I had to entrust this task to when it became too big for me to handle all on my own, and now that it's come to this I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have standing beside me. I take a deep breath, raise my still-shining dagger – well, sword now, and lead us forward with a yell that is so unlike me, but somehow very fitting right in this moment. We sprint through the grass, weaving when we have to in order to avoid the sharp tips, with our weapons raised to meet the army's. They run, and we run. For breathless moments, all is still as we race at each other headfirst; I get the strange thought that here is the heartbeat before the storm.

Then all at once, the heartbeat ends and the storm breaks with a fury that almost sends me reeling. The first earth goblin to swing its spiked club at me meets a bloody but brief end on my blade, and that one is quickly followed by a second, and a third, on and on until I lose track of how many I've killed and how many cuts and bruises each of them inflict on me in turn.

I quickly lose sight of both Caspian and Darin, but I don't have the time to worry with their fates just now. In the heat of my first battle, my world has shrunk to the half dozen or so enemies who are the closest to me. I'm only yanked from my battle stupor by cries of a faerie as it's wounded, and then I fight and hack my way through as many evil things as I have to. Sometimes I'm too late, and those are the times that it's so tempting to just lay down and cry, battle be damned. But whenever giving up even enters my mind, I just look around me, inevitably see another faerie fighting, and I leap back into the fray if only to protect that one faerie that I can see. Every time I reach one who's struggling before the death blow is dealt, the whole thing is worth any tax on me.

But this is far worse than I was prepared for, and I have to work to shut out the ugly sounds of battle and blood and war cries far too savage to be uttered here. I'd never heard a blade actually tearing through flesh before, and I find that it sounds the same whether it's an enemy's flesh or a faerie's. I never wanted to know that.

If this is hard for me, how much harder is it for the faerie's, who are, in many ways, far more innocent than I? How are they managing this, something so far outside anything they have experienced? Yet when I reach out to see what they're feeling, I don't encounter nearly the fear and sickness that I was expecting. They are made of strength, these creatures I protect.

In a way, I wish they didn't have to be, but more than anything else I'm just glad that this doesn't seem to be completely destroying them inside, at least not yet.

I don't have time for thoughts like this; a flash of pain in my shoulder reminds me of the sobering fact. Cringing and gritting my teeth as I do, I swing wildly at the snarling earth goblin. By some miracle, my aim is true and another splatter of enemy blood paints my clothes and face as the enemy falls with a hole in its neck. Another attack comes before I can wipe the grime from my eye, and so I block and duck and swing with one eye closed. I know the blood will burn if it gets in my eye, and something about having any bit of these earth goblins in my body is unacceptable. That costs me in the form of another rip in my skin, this time in my side. As before, I have to ignore the blood dripping from the fresh wound in favor of hacking down another grotesque creature. Already, exhaustion is turning my movements slower and clumsier than when I started, and it's starting to feel very much like trying to move through molasses.

Things start to settle into a hazy sort of perspective, one where I'm not so sure if this is truly happening or if I've actually lost consciousness and the rest of this is just a bloody dream. But no, the pain in my shoulder and side are sharp enough to keep my focus from crashing completely.

I hate that this is real.

The battle rages on in a blur, until I'm not even sure where anyone else is; I can only see the enemy, either as they come racing toward me or as they turn to make a swing at my head or nearest limb. My world shrinks even more, until it only consists of one enemy at a time. The narrower focus means more cuts and scratches bloom any time I so much as blink.

My training can only help so much, and now, with blood getting in my eye in spite of my repeated attempts to wipe it away and my wounds stinging as the air hits them and the constant need to fight for my survival, the lessons are practically meaningless. I don't remember to block when I should, nor do I keep the stance I practiced for days, hours, weeks. I can only lunge and throw my blade in front of another and hope that it somehow works in my favor. As my strength continues to wane, it works less and less.

A sound I've heard only once before cuts through my stupor and unbalances me with its nearness. I stumble sideways, almost trip on a scaly lump, and promptly scream. My terror is punctuated by a hiss that freezes me in my spot and makes the scream die on my lips.

There is indeed a snake, it's here, and I just tripped over its trunk of scales.

I almost scream again, but I forget how when the scaly green head rears up inches from my face and the forked tongue darts out and burns my cheek where it touches. This snake must be leading the whole thing; as soon as it's appeared in front of me, no other earth goblin attacks me. So I'm to be the snake's meal then?

"So this is all you," I whisper, stumbling backward and lifting my blade that still flickers dimly at the beady little eyes that practically glitter with glee.

"Verrrry good, little one," it answers with a voice as dry as sand that spends extra time on consonants.

"Why?" This one question lingers in the air, but the snake only hisses out a laugh in response.

"Why do suns rise or fools die? All lands must have a queen," it says, slithering its way toward me even as I continue to scrabble away.

"A snake is no queen." My voice trembles, but I spit out my reply as venomously as I can. The snake just laughs again.

I notice my blade trembling in my hand, but I can't afford to give in to my horror now, not when my failure means the destruction of this entire world. If I can defeat this thing somehow, some way, I can make this place safe again. This is what Aunt asked me to do.

With Aunt's face when she first gave me the pendant searing in my mind, I take my first lunge at the snake, the source of all of Tanssi Kuun's troubles. It dances away, swaying from side to side as if to taunt me, so I swing and swing and swing again.

It alternates between hissing at me and weaving around my attacks, but I quickly learn that I need to wait for it to attack me; the offensive is doing nothing for me other than tiring me out. Perhaps that is precisely what the snake's intention was. So I settle back into my heels, raise my blade again, and wait for its next move.

I wait for much longer than I'd expected. The vibrant green serpent just sways back and forth, either sizing me up or deliberately taunting me. Didn't anyone tell this thing not to play with its food? My own mother made sure I knew not to play with mine.

"Snakes have no manners then," I say aloud, hoping to bait it into making a move. This strategy doesn't work, and I'm left with more waiting. Holding up my blade proves taxing; it shakes in my grip sooner than I'd have liked.

Just then, the snake strikes.

Before I even know what happened, it flashes toward me, I throw myself away, and a burning gash opens in my leg. I can't help my squeaks of pain as I fall to the ground, though I do my best to keep it quiet. I don't want someone rushing to my aid and then paying the price in blood.

The snake darts for me again, and it's all I can do to roll out of the way. The fangs sink into the ground barely a breath from my head, and I have to roll again as it rears up for another strike. Another burst of blinding pain explodes across my body, this time in my injured shoulder. I scream then, but even as I do I make a half hopeless swing at the thing with my blade.

For the first time since it appeared, my dagger meets scaly flesh and an ear-crushing shriek rises from the evil in front of me. I allow myself a small smile of relief before pushing myself to my feet and lunging again. Once more, my aim finds its target, and another shriek sounds. I want to hold my hands over my ears against the chilling sound, but every time I hear it, that means Tanssi Kuun is that much safer.

I attack again and again, until I lose all sense of it. If I see green, I dive with my blade in hand, and if it gets too close I hurdle myself out of its path the best I can. Sometimes, this means I escape the pointed scales, and other times they sing across my skin and tear it away. For a while, I can almost forget how exhausted I am. But the time comes, far too soon, when I can't ignore it anymore and my swings again deteriorate in speed and accuracy. Now, when the snake injures me, I don't even have the energy to cry out; instead, my eyes water and my blood rushes through my veins a little faster.

This is, perhaps, how I end up on my back with the snake coiled around my torso, holding my arms to my body, and its face dangerously close to mine. This is how it ends, then. I'm only sorry I couldn't save the faeries, and that thought makes tears roll down my cheeks endlessly. Perhaps that's best; I won't see the snake in my last moment.

I close my eyes and steel myself; I feel the snake's coil tighten and the rush of air as it dives forward. I wait for the inevitable.

It doesn't come.

Another of the snake's hissing, screeching howls rattles my very bones, and a drop of venom lands on my cheek. Somehow, its body loosens around mine, and I wiggle an arm free. The first thing I do is open my eyes; the second thing I do is wipe the scorching venom from my face; the third, well, I stare in shock.

King Caspian has just reappeared from the midst of battle and saved my life. He must have known where I was from my cries, or perhaps he saw the snake and saw that I was doomed. Either way, the relief cripples me for precious moments. And then my sense returns and I see the snake lunging for Caspian next.

I scramble to my feet on legs that shake and barely hold me up, but I can't leave Caspian to fight that thing on his own. I have to help him. My blade, I find, is already lifted, even though my arm practically screams with the effort of simply holding it up. I have to do this. I want to do this.

Without another thought, I jump between the snake as it makes another lunge for a now off-balance Caspian. Green scales fill my vision, but I hold my blade steady and smile a grim sort of smile when another screech pierces the air and tells me of my success.

My maneuver ends with me on the ground once again, facedown and half mad with desperation. I manage to roll over, and this shows me Caspian, somehow, is holding his own against the gruesome serpent. It dances around him and hisses and strikes, but he blocks better than I ever could; I only see the snake get in a swipe once, but I still cringe at the pained cry that falls from Caspian's lips. At that, I find another small burst of energy to pull myself up and distract the snake again. It works, but it costs me another stinging cut. Now my face is marred with battle as much as the rest of me.

Caspian's war cry jolts me from my hazy pain, and he now bats the serpent away from me. This time I don't quite fall to the ground, but I come down hard on one knee and have to grind my teeth against another yelp. I don't want to distract Caspian; he's already proven he will leap to protect me if he deems it necessary.

The dance between the three of us continues, for that is what this is, what this whole battle really is – it's a deadly, costly, terrifying dance that makes me want to succumb to an enemy's blade and to fight them away until my very last breath.

"Move!" Caspian's shout jolts my focus back into sharp reality, and I spin away from the snake again.

I hear Caspian's blade crunch past the scales once more, and this time the scream is louder than any of the others. I'm waiting with bated breath for the serpent to lunge at one of us again, but it surprises me – still wailing and hissing, it slithers off, faster than I could ever hope to run. Caspian tries to chase it down, but quickly runs into an earth goblin that he has to fight, and by the time the way is clear again there's no sign of the snake. If not for the searing reminders of its ferocity on my body, I could almost think it was never here at all.

The battle continues at first, with the earth goblins attacking and me blocking, but now Caspian is at my back and I don't sustain quite as many wounds as before. I'll have to remember to thank him, when this is over.

It almost seems, that, perhaps, it will be over, and soon. The earth goblins slowly decrease in number around me, until I only have to fight two of them at once, perhaps, and then one at a time. As the battle slowly winds down, Caspian never leaves my side, and he saves my head more than once. How is he not falling over? I know there are countless times when I think I'm moments away from that myself.

The tide changes; I know this when one of the earth goblins runs from my blade. A second runs away from Caspian, and more follow. The whole lot of them seem to melt away in seconds, though I know it must be closer to minutes at least.

Unbelievably, we seem to have won.

Tanssi Kuun is safe.


	24. Mourning and Moving Forward

**(Rose POV)**

Once the enemy has fled, the full cost of the battle is readily apparent. Bodies lay strewn about the field, some in pieces and some mangled so badly that I can't tell what they would have looked like before. What brings me to my knees is seeing that the faeries who have died number almost as many as the earth goblins.

Hundreds, thousands perhaps. My teacher is gone, not three feet from where I stand now. Could I have helped them, had I known? Was there anything I could have done?

Caspian lays a hand on my shoulder and pulls me to my feet. "Those still here are safe, Rosamar. You must think of that first."

My lip trembles as I look out at the devastation, but I know deep down that Caspian is right. The cost was awful, but now they're safe. We are all safe. That's what we were all fighting for, and now it's come to fruition. I think, perhaps, I should be more relieved. No, the relief can come later, after we mourn those who didn't live to see Tanssi Kuun restored. When we have mourned, that will be our next task, to rebuild.

Already, the moon is a little brighter. It's dim in places, yes, but with so many lost that is to be expected. If the moon gets its light from the faeries, it too will suffer from our losses today. But for those who have survived, they do glow a little brighter. My own blade glows again, long enough to be considered a respectable sword.

Slowly, I limp toward the faeries who still hover in the air. They all gather around me, Caspian in their midst. For a moment, my heart is in my throat as I realize that I haven't seen Darin since the start of the battle, but my worry is eased when he too joins the mass of us.

"We are safe now," I say quietly, my voice hoarse and rough from the grueling fight. "We will mourn those who could not see this, but we will also celebrate when we have buried them. They would want us to do that, I think." Unshed tears make my voice crack in places, but underneath the drowning grief there is, as Caspian said, a flicker of hope, of triumph.

Tanssi Kuun is safe. The faeries are safe. I haven't failed them.

My breath leaves me in a rush and a smile that's both sorrowful and peaceful blooms on my face. The faeries have similar expressions as they look at me. We've both lost and won, and now we have to come to terms with that. I don't know how, but at least we can figure it out together.

As I'm looking over at everyone who's survived, I notice Darin clutching his arm and trying to hide a pained expression. In an instant, I hurry over asking what's wrong.

"Rose, what happened?" is the first thing that comes out of his mouth through gritted teeth.

"I could ask you the same thing," I fire right back, ignoring that yes, my own wounds are starting to catch up to me and seeing straight isn't what it used to be.

Darin set his jaw, and starts to let go of his arm, but I quickly frown, tell him to stop being so ridiculous and let me help him already.

"Caspian, the cordial," I call when Darin moves his hand and I see just how deep the gash is.

"Rose I'm-"

"Enough Darin," I finally snap. "You helped us, now let me help you."

If I didn't know better, I'd say that little gleam in Darin's eye is amusement. I'm distracted from it for a moment when Caspian presses the cordial into my hands, but when I look over there it is again.

"What's so amusing?" I grumble as I unscrew the top of the cordial and tip a drop, as per Caspian's instructions, into Darin's mouth.

"Only you could be so cross with a wounded man," he replies with a smirk that looks entirely too well on him.

I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment or a playful insult, so I smile a pinched smile and smack him lightly on his unhurt arm. His eyes widen when the cordial does its work, and I too have to be surprised. It's as if Darin was never hurt at all.

"You next," Caspian says sternly.

Just as I open my mouth to protest, never mind the black spot or two in my line of sight, Darin jumps on the topic as well.

"Rose, come now," he says, more playfully than seriously. "It's not poison."

"I know that." There's no use in arguing, not when I'm hoping to return to work with Sima in a few days' time. Various scars and wounds would prompt far too many questions, so I quietly let Darin tip a drop into my mouth.

Sure enough, it works better than magic; within a few minutes every last scratch is stitched up and erased as if it never was.

"That's rather handy, isn't it," I say once I'm as good as new. The only thing the cordial doesn't do is remove the grime of battle from my skin and clothes, but I'm not going to complain.

"And now it's your turn, Caspian." I can't deny that I take obvious relish in turning the tables on him now, but even that little joy feels empty underneath it all. In time, perhaps that will fade.

He too looks like he'll protest, but he's the king and he can't go back to Narnia all battle beaten without more questions being asked. I'm sure our wild ride through the city this morning raised enough concerns as it is. I say as much, and after I repeat it Caspian relents.

"It is for serious injuries," he says once the cordial has worked its magic.

"As yours were," I answer firmly. He really can be so impossible at times.

From there, it's time to heal the faeries who still live. Destrier is found grazing by one of the faeries, and he's left grazing, albeit a bit closer by. My first task is to see if any of those lying on the ground still breath; some do, but many do not. For those lucky ones who have some life left in them, Caspian gives them the cordial and before long they're as good as new. Well, almost; the horrors of battle have dimmed their lights a little, and their eyes are heavy and sad underneath the relief that Tanssi Kuun is finally safe.

Some ask who has been lost, and every time I have to tell them that I don't know yet. We can only look to the dead when I'm sure that there's no one else the cordial can save.

Time drags and races as Caspian and Darin and I make our way around the battle ground looking for anyone we can help. Darin and I check for signs of life and Caspian administers the miracle cordial. This means that when one of the faeries slips through my fingers before we can give it the potion, Caspian is there to see the tears that fall from my eyes. Sometimes, he wipes them away, but I notice that it's only when Darin is occupied.

When at last every faerie who can be saved has been helped, it's time to bury the ones we've lost. I realize vaguely that neither Caspian nor Darin have seen the farewells to the dead here, but I'm not about to tell them what happens. It was a sad and wonderful surprise when I first saw it, and I want the same experience for them.

Because there are so many, the faeries and I silently agree to bring the bodies all to one place and bury them that way. Caspian and Darin catch on soon enough, and in this manner all the fallen faeries, within a few hours, have been laid together in the clearing. This is where I first met many of them, in fact all but Bashar, my guide.

My heart clenches at the happy memory and the bitter understanding that a good number of the faces I saw on my first night here now lay in front of me and will never smile again. But the vines come up from the ground and begin to weave themselves over the many bodies; this is different from the first time I witnessed the funeral. Yet another sign that Tanssi Kuun is healing – the vines come and cover the passed on their own.

The surviving faeries send one of their ribbons to the mass grave when the vines have finished their work. For a moment I wonder sadly if there will be enough to cover the dead, but the ribbons stretch to the perfect size. My contribution is next; it's time for me to return the gift they gave me before the battle began.

I lift my blade from its place on my belt and release the lights that enrobed it throughout the fight. Some of them are brighter than others, but they all sweep over the glowing graves as one. The light is almost blinding as the ribbons weave themselves in and out of the vines, until the whole mass of the bodies is transformed into a single radiant disk of light. A white beam as big across as the entire gravesite shoots into the sky, the bodies with it, and the song begins. Now that I've heard it once, I sing with them.

I can hear the voices we're missing. I think we all can.

As we sing, the tears begin rolling down my cheeks freely, and even as my heart breaks all over again, there's peace in it. The white beam brightens as the song stretches on with high notes and low notes, long and short, brittle and beautiful. This is an exquisite kind of mourning, a mourning that truly honors our dead.

The white light starts to shrink into the bodies, getting brighter and brighter as it does. Our song rises with it, rises until it hits a crescendo and the bodies vanish with the light as it snaps out of existence. At least, that's what I think happens. But when I look up at the sky, I see hundreds of new stars winking back at me, stars that weren't there a night ago.

"They become the stars?" I whisper. The bitter-sweetness of it hits me at the same time as my awe. How did I not notice that before?

"In this way, no one is ever truly lost," Bashar murmurs back, her voice heavy and yet glad.

The official ceremony is now over, but we all stand staring at the sky. I realize that the day is gone and night is already well on. The fight must have lasted all day.

At once, I remember Caspian. Doesn't he need to return to Narnia?

I intend to tell him this very thing, but when I see the trails of tears on his face I decide to leave him be for a little while longer. If he's concerned about going back, he'll say goodbye before he leaves. Right now, I think he'd prefer I not bring it up yet.

Thinking of Caspian makes me curious about how Darin took this farewell; when I look over, I see his eyes are swimming but his cheeks are dry.

"We should cleanse the battle from our skin," Bashar whispers to me.

I nod my assent and the group of us heads into the woods where the faeries lead us to a creek. It's a happy, gurgling sound that greets us, so unlike the previous sounds of the day that it startles me for a moment. It sounds innocent and playful. This kind of sound is what belongs here.

The faeries splash into the water without a second thought, but I hang back to give them some room. I can wash after they're done; my wash will be a bit more involved. They finish surprisingly quickly. A few come up to me and make me promise to play a water game with them after the aftershocks of the day's events have settled.

When most of them are done, I slip into the water myself, clothes and all, and try my best to scrub the grit and grime out of both my skin and my garments. It's much easier to imagine myself clean than to get there, but I plug away and soon I'm almost presentable. I have to check that I've cleaned my face and hair alright in my reflection at a calmer part of the creek. Darin comes over to help with my hair, and I find that right now, I don't mind when he runs his fingers through and gets the last of the dirt and blood out for me.

Since we've all bathed in our clothes and we're sopping wet from head to toe, there's little to do but lay down to dry off. In this one instance alone, Narnia would perhaps be better; the Narnian sun was warm and dried things quickly, but the moon here is not nearly so efficient at things like that. Perhaps if I move around, that will help.

No sooner have I gotten to my feet than the faeries surround me and tug me into a dance. I'm about to ask about Caspian and Darin, but when I turn to look for them I see that they're being tugged along too. I smile when I see that they're both a little embarrassed, though Caspian hides it better. More practice with those things, I suppose.

We're all swept up into a wild, wild dance that flits over the ground as if it's not even there. There is sadness, yes, but also hope. We dance for those we can no longer dance with, and we dance for those we know we will dance with when they arrive. I'm not sure how new faeries come into the world, but I can't wait to find out. I now know for sure that I will.

This world lives on, and deep down I think that though the battle was the worst thing I've ever seen, it was all somehow worth it.

We dance and dance, dance until it truly feels like everything will work out. We didn't fight for nothing. I know that, and each and every faerie knows that. The grief will come again, and come often, but we can't forget what we won today. We defended our home, and that is something to celebrate.

Eventually, we grow tired and settle down to sit. I notice Caspian looking off in the direction of the entry tree once or twice, and I decide that I should perhaps bring up his return, especially with daybreak coming in the next hour or two. We passed the day in war, and the night in dance.

"When do you return to Narnia?" I ask him as I come to sit beside him.

"Soon," he says, glancing toward the entry tree again. "There are many things to fix."

Caspian falls silent again and stares straight ahead. I think he's about to ask how I ended up in a cell, but I'm also hoping he won't. I can deal with all of that when I return to Narnia, but I'm in no rush to deal with it now.

"What happened when you went back, Rose?" Caspian's voice is thick and sorry, but he doesn't quite look at me.

Well, there goes that.

"Rumors hit a high point, and apparently the Lord Regent deemed them to be of substance." The answer is quite simple, but I don't really know more than that. That was the little I could glean from the soldiers who took me away.

"Perhaps there were more notes similar to the one I found in my papers," Caspian murmurs, his shoulders still slumped forward. "Trumpkin will be a better Lord Regent, I think."

I don't know who Trumpkin is, but I don't think Caspian was seeking a reply to that in any case. He's obviously quite upset, though I can't quite figure out why. Of course I would expect him to be a little put out, but this angry and troubled? And yet, when I remember the near-kiss, it makes a little more sense.

"I will do everything I can to undo this," Caspian continues after some moments of silence. "How do you explain your absences?"

"Family troubles," I answer. It's not entirely untrue; the faeries are, in many ways, my new family. "It typically discourages further questions."

"Then I will confirm it. Your name will be as clear as the day you came to the city." Caspian finally looks away from the horizon and turns to meet my steady gaze. "Is there anything you wish me to impart to Sima? I will pass by there on my way to the castle."

"Simply that I will be back in a few days' time and that the reason for my continued absence is a death in the family. I started to tell her that, but then the guards were there and, well…" I don't have to finish that; moreover, I think it's best if I don't. Caspian clenches his hands into fists until his knuckles turn white even without the rest of the sentence.

On an impulse, I cover his hands with my own and gently work his fingers loose. "It's over now," I say in an effort to soothe his troubled conscience. "I'm alright."

"You almost missed the most important day in Tanssi Kuun since you've arrived. If I had not arrived when I did…" Caspian's fingers tighten again, but I smooth them out once more.

"But you did. That's all that counts." Now realistically, I know that from here on out, I will be infinitely more guarded and trust even less easily, but Caspian has no need to know that. In any case, it doesn't affect him; he's already earned my friendship.

He still doesn't seem satisfied, but I don't expect him to be. No doubt this will trouble him for some time longer, and there's not much to be done about that. In time, it will get easier, just as my Aunt's death did. Just as the losses of today will be.

"I will be going to Ettinsmoor soon," Caspian says. "The Giants are becoming unruly, and I am not yet sure of my return."

"Out of one battle and into another," I answer, half joking and half sorry. "Stay safe, Caspian."

Caspian's fingers lace with mine as he replies, "And you as well."

And now, I know it's time for him to leave; the moon is just peeking above the horizon. Caspian stands and helps me up too. Without saying another word, we slip easily into a hug and murmur goodbyes as we step away.

Caspian goes around to the faeries as well and says his goodbyes, and exchanges a polite handshake with Darin. The two exchange quiet words that I can't understand.

Once they've finished their words, Caspian takes Destrier from his grass and walks the massive black horse beside him.

Darin falls into step beside me as I head over to walk Caspian back to Narnia, and for a moment all I can think is that somehow, the three of us were enough to keep this place safe, to keep the faeries safe. I don't know how we did it, but somehow we did and none of us could have done it without one of the others.

"Thank you," I say to them. "Both of you."

Caspian nods graciously, but Darin smiles softly.

"It was an adventure," he says simply, and he's so very right.

It was an adventure, with wonderful moments and horrifying moments, and it's not over yet. Tanssi Kuun will always be an adventure, and I don't think I will ever tire of it. I know I won't.

When we reach the entry tree and Caspian steps through with Destrier, Darin and I follow just to see him off. He mounts up, dips his head and says a final farewell, and then he's riding off into the forest back to his throne and everything that comes with it.

For my part, I stand and watch him go, thinking again about the grand adventure this was. And when Darin's hand slips into mine, I think that I wouldn't mind having him with me for the next adventure.

Whenever it comes.


	25. Epilogue

Deep in the forest, by a tree engraved with a quite particular symbol, a serpent winds its way through the weeds and ferns. It could blend in perfectly were it not for the trail of greenish blood it left in its wake. Its hisses, formerly the terror of any world, are now nearly silent, both out of injury and a need for quiet passage through the woods.

The snake travels along, stopping every few minutes to try and ease the pain in its side. It is not used to cuts and wounds marring its scales. The damaged skin catches on the leaves and twigs sometimes.

Once the woods begin to thin and the ferns no longer provide quite so much cover, the serpent raises itself up on an aching tail to its full height. Slowly, the scales melt away and the beast shrinks in size. The green skin morphs into green cloth, and a fair woman emerges.

Limping along, the lady in green robes makes her way through the forest toward the city. The time has come for her to move her home to a safer place. Perhaps there is more safety in the north. The Giants of Harfang are old friends of hers; perhaps she can regain her strength in their country and then build a new Underland, one to not only rival the old, but to completely eclipse it. The Moon World (those silly creatures called it Tanssi Kuun in their tongue, but the lady thinks Moon World suits it much better) would have been a good place to gather strength until her real Underland could come to fruition, but now the Harfang Giants will simply have to do.

One of their cities in the North, ruined now but she has seen it in its glory days, may prove a suitable spot for beginning her new kingdom. Perhaps this time she will even go deep enough into the earth to take the gnomes as her subjects. Her earth-goblins were all but destroyed by that troublesome Rose and her makeshift army.

But first she needs to rest, and there willbe no rest here in the city. The Green Lady glides through the crowds that choke the streets, but it is nowhere near as easy as usual. She nods to the familiar faces that she was so careful to incline to her words and even stops to trade pleasantries with a few of her closer acquaintances. They served her well when she needed dear little Rose contained, but now she must leave all these carefully forged connections behind.

A new beginning awaits her, when her strength is returned. She will yet be Queen of Narnia.

The thought comforts the lady as she enters her temporary abode and packs only her necessary belongings. This means only her precious mandolin and her magic powder that aids her in twisting the words of others. These items too have served her well, but they will yet serve her again.

Carefully and quite gently , the lady picks up the mandolin and the powder, tucks them away in a purse that looks much smaller than it is, and sets out, telling all her gossip mills along the way that something has come up and she simply must visit some old friends, but she will be sure to visit them again when she is able.

Her new beginning is nigh.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of Moonrose! A bridge work (2-shot) called Moonlight will be up soon, and then it's on to Morelia. Thank you for reading!


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